Tentative Freedom
by Flight-of-Fantasies
Summary: Both Grimmjow and Ichigo are drowning. Pressure, high school, and family situations that no one should have to go through. Through it all, will they be able to help each other? (I suck at writing these) AU GrimmIchi OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. Wish I could draw like Tite Kubo though…

Eek. My first ever fanfiction. *clutches stomach in apprehension*

* * *

**Chapter One**

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Grimmjow woke up suddenly, as if a jolt of electricity had shot through him. It was still dark out, but not the absolute darkness of night; it was the gentle darkness of almost dawn. A small shape mumbled on the mattress next to him, attempting to snuggle into the warmth of his body.

Grimmjow blinked as he tried to remember his dream but all he felt were lingering sensations, fading before he could catch them. A thrill, a feeling of being free – he snatched at the impressions but they slipped through his mind's grasp, turning to wisps and evaporating into nothing.

He lay there for another half an hour, eyes shut, attempting to go back to sleep. It was pointless though – he was wide awake. Sighing, he sat up and untangled himself from the crumpled sheets and wrapped them around his sister's small form. She could do with a few more moments sleep whilst he prepared breakfast.

Well, breakfast was perhaps too glamorous a word for what they would eat. Grimmjow snorted to himself as he crawled off the mattress and onto the hard wood floor. The bare floorboards met his feet with sullen coolness, as if the very fact they were bare offended them.

The tiny room was austere in its furnishings, the floor a mottled grey, the window too high and curtain less. The double mattress on the ground took up most of the space, the sheets on it a depressing grey as well. The kind of washed out grey old white sheets had a tendency to take on. Clothes were neatly folded in a couple of mismatched suitcases in the far right corner in front of a rather unstable looking radiator.

The only bright things in the room were the walls, originally lumpy and white they were now adorned with colourful drawings tacked up with a mixture of pins, tape and, in some desperate cases, chewing gum. They were a child's drawings, full of bobble heads on stick figures, a line of blue in guise of the sky and green sprouts feigning to be grass.

The newest addition made Grimmjow's features curl into a small smile as he stood up. It was a simple picture entitled "Grimmy and Me" the letters mismatched and the "e" was backwards. A large figure with shocking blue hair was standing, in true stickman form, with his arms and legs splayed out. A much smaller figure was holding his hand, this one sporting a plethora of equally shocking green hair. A strange pink wiggle was in this figure's other hand.

Looking down at the real life version of the small figure, sleeping soundly in the middle of the mattress, clutching what appeared to be a small stuffed worm, Grimmjow felt his heart clench. Nel was thirteen years younger than him, and his whole world. Everything he did, he did for her.

Their father they had never seen hide nor hair of, and their mother, well, their mother would disappear for large amounts of time, coming back in various states of disarray. She had been gone for six months and still no word from her, this time. The eighteen year old had learnt that in this world, you could only depend on yourself. So he worked after school to pay the bills, kept the tiny flat clean, kept them fed and sheltered. And learnt to keep his mouth shut and stay within the lines defined by society, despite seething inside at the unfairness of life.

He ached for freedom, but one look at Nel and he squashed those feeling deep down inside of him. They only escaped at night, in his dreams, when he could do nothing about them.

Grimmjow slipped a pair of school trousers over his boxers and a black t-shirt over his unruly mane of blue hair, followed by a white shirt that he left hanging, unbuttoned, off his muscular frame. Buckling his belt, he padded into the bathroom to wash the last remains of sleep from his face.

After splashing cool water onto his face and running a quick hand through his hair, styling it somewhat, he looked around for his deodorant. He snorted again, this time in annoyance. How could he possibly lose something in a bathroom where you could simultaneously sit on the toilet, wash your feet (or legs if you were tall, as was Grimmjow's case) and brush your teeth?

Finally finding it behind the toilet – god only knows how it rolled down there – he picked it up with a growl and stalked into the kitchen. Looking in the fridge, he took out the porridge he had made for the week and splodged two slimy portions into a couple of bowls. Placing them both in the microwave, balancing one on top of the other with the aid of a plate, he set it for three minutes and went to wake Nel.

By the time he managed to rouse, wash and feed her, it would more than certainly be time for them to leave for the local school.

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XXX

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Ichigo's alarm went off, but he was already awake. He had been for a while. He shut it off quickly, not wanting to awaken anyone else in the house. His sister's slept in the room adjacent to his and his father down the hall. It didn't help that the walls were so paper-thin that in an attempt to screw some shelves into the wall, the screw had ended up poking through into his twin sisters' room.

Ichigo threw the sheets off and stood up in the clammy darkness that existed just before dawn. He was used to getting up so early to do the morning duties in the clinic: checking up on all the patients, making sure none had gotten worse in the night, cleaning up any unfortunate accidents or mishaps that could have transpired.

The weak, the sick, the unhealthy, the injured, the dead, all of these and more were a regular part of the teenager's life. Ichigo quickly slipped on some scrubs – you didn't really want to wear your own clothes when dealing with the patients – and padded his way into the bathroom to make himself look someone presentable to the outside world.

As he brushed his teeth, he glowered at his reflection. A shock of bright orange hair glared right back at him, underneath which hid large brown eyes adorned with a perpetual frown. Ichigo wasn't one for smiling much, his nature too serious and his mind too determined.

After his rounds, which were uneventful apart from an old lady who threw up on his shoes (an unfortunately regular occurrence), he meandered back into his family's personal side of the clinic. He shoved his soiled scrubs into the washing machine and took a quick shower.

After rummaging around in the fridge he flopped down at the kitchen table and began eating cereal. Staring blankly ahead, he went through a mental checklist of what he had to do that day: morning rounds, check, breakfast, check, school, homework, evening rounds. Check up on the twins, Karin and Yuzu, and help them if they need it. Although he highly doubted they would: Yuzu was the soft caring type who wouldn't trouble him with anything, and Karin was far too stubborn to say anything on the matter. Get good grades, get a good job, and look after the family. That was his duty; more than that: it was what he owed them.

He heard noises from upstairs and realised that it was time for the rest of the family to wake up. Not wanting to encounter his father, whom he avoided most of the time, Ichigo placed his dirty dishes in the sink and grabbed his school bag.

Slipping into his converses, he quickly laced them and headed out of the door, closing it with a quiet click just as the others sleepily made their way down the stairs.

It was cool and quiet this morning, the September skies a soothing shade of blue. The walk to school only took twenty minutes, and Ichigo used the time to think of absolutely nothing. It was oddly liberating. Legs on autopilot, he almost walked past his friends gathered at the gates.

"Yo, Ichigo!" A rather boisterous dark haired girl yelled at him, "What, you ignoring us now?"

"Oh, hey Tatsuki," he replied, scowling at the fact he hadn't noticed them. He nodded to the others in curt greeting.

"Ah, come oooon, you know it will be fun Mizuiro," A brown haired boy was whining at another who seemed to be on his mobile.

"I think you should leave him alone when he's on the phone Keigo," a busty ginger girl admonished him softly.

"Oh, Orihime, you will come with me, won't you?" Keigo pleaded.

"No, she won't," Tatsuki replied fiercely in her place.

"Why does nobody love me?" the other pouted grumpily.

Ichigo ignored all this as if it were normal. In reality, it was perfectly normal behaviour from all the students. A harsh bell rung and they traipsed their way into the school, winding their way upstairs to their classroom.

Ichigo nonchalantly sauntered over to his desk near the window and sat down, his bag thudding slightly on the floor as he put it down. He got out a pen and notebook settled comfortably into his seat, extending his long legs, looking the picture of the perfect student. Excluding the ever present scowl that was imprinted on his features. He didn't even register the several pairs of eyes that had followed his trajectory like hungry wolves, devouring his every move.

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XXX

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One of the pairs of eyes fixated on the orange haired teenager belonged to a certain Grimmjow. He eyed the boy sitting in front of him critically, cerulean eyes slanted and head cocked to one side.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but feel jealous of Ichigo Kurosaki: he seemed to have it all. The looks, the friends, the test scores, the family. A perfect life. It was a stark contrast to his own life: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, barely scraping by at school, constantly in scraps, his only friends a couple of notorious delinquents.

Even if he himself knew he was good-looking – to be honest he knew he could probably have any girl in the school and then some (that thought made him smirk) – that didn't stop him staring at the kid in front of him, wishing they could trade places if even for a day.

The constant need to be looking over his shoulder, to have the weight of keeping in line pressing on him, to keep his mouth shut when he would much rather snap back, hell, he would much rather punch back. The snide remarks from the teachers about his hair, about his tardiness, about his schoolwork, about his attitude.

If it weren't for Nel, he would have ditched this place long ago. Yet he knew the consequences that would bring: social workers, separation and sadness. His fiercely protective nature would never let that happen, not in a thousand years. So he reigned himself in, and even if sometimes it felt as though he would snap from the strain, he did it all the same.

Despite his resolve, his disruptive nature just seemed to show through. The other kids slid him sideways glances, terrified yet curious about the blue-haired teenager. With his rugged features and six foot one figure, he was striking to say the least. The aura he exuded was only intensified by the fact that being around him was like being around a barely constrained wild cat.

Grimmjow sighed and rapped his fingers absently against the desk as the teacher walked in and began to talk about the subjects they would be facing in the next round of exams. Grimmjow knew that when high school was over, he wouldn't go to college. All of these exams were pointless.

He would simply continue on in his current after school job, only full time. He hummed pointedly, almost unconsciously, as the teacher prattled on about how important it was to try hard.

Unfortunately, his noises did not go unnoticed and the teacher stopped to stare at him. Half the class slid their eyes toward him, the other half staring pointedly ahead of them. Grimmjow noticed Ichigo did neither, simply staring out of the window.

"What's so funny, Jaegerjaques?" the teacher inquired testily.

_Shit_, Grimmjow thought, although his demeanour looked nothing but bored and relaxed.

"Well," he drawled, "It's not as if they are _so _important. I mean, who really gives a damn about a high school diploma in the real world?"

The elder bristled and replied, "Obviously, not everyone had your _worldly _experience, Jaegerjaques," she put special emphasis on the word, clearly stating her sarcasm. "I highly doubt you will even pass these tests. However, there are others whom I believe will do excellently," her eyes slid automatically to Kurosaki and Grimmjow hissed in exasperation as the teacher continued, "And I'm sure _they _are interested in what I have to say. Maybe you could learn from them."

"Fat chance," Grimmjow murmured under his breath, too low for the teacher to hear.

The rest of the morning slid by with no further incident, and soon enough Grimmjow was headed out of the classroom and to the cafeteria for lunch. After paying for a sandwich – a measly looking ham and cheese affair – he headed to the back wall, a spot hidden from prying eyes of teachers and students alike.

His only two friends in this godforsaken place were already there, smoking and chatting to each other. As he approached he took a pack of cigarettes from him back pocket with his free hand and pulled one loose with his teeth. Letting it hang from his mouth, he nodded to the others in greeting.

"Hey Grimm, can I bum a smoke?" the lankier of the two sidled up to him and offered an extra toothy grin.

"Aye, don't get used to it though. I'm feeling lenient today," Grimmjow placed his miserable lunch on the wall and proffered the packet.

"Cheers," the long legged teen lit up and held the lighter up to Grimmjow who took it, used it, and gave it back. It had a picture of a rather naked and shameless looking woman on it. Taking a long drag and closing his eyes, he let the feeling of lightness that smoking brought fill him and ease his mind. Exhaling the smoke through his nose he opened his eyes again.

"So what've you two been up to?" he questioned, "haven't seen you round much lately Nnoi,"

"Yeah," the lanky teen grinned, "bin busy with work stuff. S'not that hard to skive when nobody gives a damn,"

Grimmjow nodded, knowing exactly what "work stuff" meant. He didn't pursue the matter. He would rather not know the details.

"How is the after school job going? You make any progress with the old fart yet?" Nnoi inquired.

"Eh," Grimmjow replied, "I'm wearing him down. Already got the licence, now all I need now is the discount." He grinned devilishly, "And with my skills that shouldn't be too tough to wrangle out of him."

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XXX

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Karin's mountain bike, her pride and joy, had given out. Normally not one for asking for anything, she had approached Ichigo after dinner that night, asking in a roundabout way if he could take it to the local bike shop to be repaired.

"Of course, you don't have to worry about asking me for anything," he replied, ruffling her dark hair.

Karin pulled a sour face and patted her hair back down. She and Ichigo were more alike than they cared to admit.

"I think it's the brakes. And something weird happened when I was pumping up the back tire –"

"Oh I remember!" Yuzu exclaimed from the kitchen where she was loading the dishwasher. "It kept on swelling and then burst with a bang that nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The softer twin chuckled at the memory whilst her sister scowled.

"So anyway," Karin continued, "I think the inner tube has up and died as well."

Ichigo looked the clock in the living room. It was only six thirty, and the shop didn't close for another hour.

"I'll take it up tonight, and then perhaps they can fix it overnight,"

"You're so nice Oni-sann," Yuzu crooned.

"Mmph. Thanks," Karin mumbled gruffly before leaving the room.

And so Ichigo found himself at the Karakura bike shop with fifteen minutes to spare before they shut. He walked in the door, the welcome bell jingling. There was no-one behind the counter.

Wondering if he was perhaps too late, he rang the bell on the countertop. He heard a clang and muffled swearing as the assistant made his way from the garage into the shop proper.

Pale blue hair and scowling eyes met his, and he watched transfixed as the other attempted to wipe black grease from his face with a rag. All he really succeeded in doing was smearing it further.

"Kurosaki," the boy greeted him curtly.

Ichigo shook himself free of the strange feeling that made him want to take the rag and wipe Grimmjow's face clean, and nodded sharply at the boy himself.

"Jaegerjaques." Ichigo looked at his classmate, "Didn't know you worked here,"

"Yeah well, not everyone has your perfect life Kurosaki," the other retorted.

Ichigo bristled; was he seriously insulting him?

"I hope this isn't the way you treat all your customers," he shot back.

"Nah," Grimmjow shrugged, "Only the arrogant pricks."

Ichigo killed the growl that threatened to make its way out of his throat and simply contented himself with throwing Grimmjow a scowl that would make a weaker man tremble.

"I'm here to get a bike fixed," he muttered, still glaring from beneath his flamboyant orange locks.

"No shit Sherlock," Grimmjow jeered, his signature toothy grin making an appearance. "Looks kinda light for you Kurosaki, almost a girl's bike. You hiding something I should know about?"

Ichigo reigned in his rage in and didn't even deign to answer that. What was this guy's problem?

"It's my sister's," he replied shortly, "I think the brakes are gone and the inner tube in the back tire is bust."

"Eh, we can fix that easy enough. I've got magic fingers," Grimmjow said arrogantly, wiggling them at Ichigo for good measure.

Ichigo felt a wave of heat engulf him at the sight of those lean digits twisting in front of him. Blaming it on his temper, he wheeled the bike toward the counter and leaned it against it.

"How long will it take those _magic fingers_ to fix it?" he inquired sarcastically.

"Hmm, I dunno, how long is a piece of wood?" the other deadpanned.

Ichigo stared at him blankly. What the hell?

Grimmjow snorted, "It's a rhetorical question dumbass. It will take as long as it takes. Probably a few days. If you can pry yourself away from your busy schedule, come by on Wednesday." And with that he took the bike and wheeled it into the back.

Ichigo stood there, watching that head of unruly blue hair retreating. He had half a mind to go and punch the guy for his insolence, yet the other half was curious as to why he had such a severe aversion to him. At school, they had barely exchanged two words. Shaking his head and putting it down to typical asshole behaviour, he left the shop.

Yet on his walk home, it was not Grimmjow's rude attitude that occupied his thoughts. The image of cerulean eyes, only heightened by black grease smudges, seemed to be engrained on his retinas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Wish I owned Ichigo though…

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**Chapter Two**

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Ichigo was dreaming. His eyeballs flickered restlessly beneath fluttering eyelids. His breath came in taut, sharp rasps, as though he had a pressure on his chest. He was drowning, in a city that was crumbling beneath an enormous weight. He couldn't breathe, his lungs gasping for oxygen, filling up with frozen water instead. The sensation of burning came along with the icy liquid, the contraction making it all the more painful.

He awoke with a gulp and sat up, taking deep breaths, realising that he could actually breathe. He shakily ran a hand through his hair, shrugging off the last remnants of his nightmare. A glance at the clock next to his bed told him that it was almost time to get up anyway.

As he made his way to the other side of the clinic to check on the patients, a strange feeling gripped him. He shivered despite the mild September air, and tried to shake it off. He knew this feeling. He just hoped it was a leftover from his dream and not real.

Shuffling around in semi darkness, he made sure that all the sick were doing alright. He approached the room that the old lady who had previously thrown up on him was residing in, and opened the door tentatively. He really didn't want a repeat of yesterday.

She was lying on her bed, eyes shut, looking for all the world as though she were sleeping. But Ichigo could feel it. That cold sensation that sent prickles down his spine had multiplied tenfold since earlier. The room was cooler than it should have been. Ichigo bent over the bed, two fingers resting lightly on her neck. She no longer retained any heat, and Ichigo could feel nothing but papery skin. She was dead.

Ichigo sighed and completed the rest of the rounds on autopilot, before traipsing upstairs to inform his father of the occurrence. The man was sleeping soundly, and it took a good whack to the head to wake him up.

"Masaki, why is our boy so cruel to me?" he whimpered, sitting upright in bed.

"Mrs Kurtis is dead. I think she died of heart failure but I'm not sure. I'm going to phone the coroner but I thought you ought to know." Ichigo stated dully, before leaving the room.

He didn't like to be with his father any longer than necessary. The man was just an overemotional wreck half the time, and a stupid ass the rest. It made him feel uncomfortable.

In a hot shower, Ichigo tried to wash away the cold feeling of death. But even as he turned up the temperature, he knew it was futile. He was already branded by death's icy clutch, and that would never fade.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Nel chattered incessantly on the way to school. They walked slowly together, the small green haired child clutching at his big hand as though it were a lifeline.

Grimmjow grinned. He enjoyed these walks to school, when Nel's happy voice filled his ears and reminded him of more innocent days. As they approached the kindergarten, a pink haired comet descended upon them, ripping Nel from his grasp and knocking her to the floor.

"Yachiru!" A dark haired woman admonished. "What have I told you about being so violent? Apologise right now."

"Sorry," the child mumbled, before cracking a grin and dragging Nel off to the playground with her. They both squealed enthusiastically at each other, communicating in way only small children can. Grimmjow's grin didn't leave his face, happy to see his sister happy.

"Tch, she never listens. Just like her father," the woman standing next to him said, before turning to face him fully. "So Nel is still coming over to stay tonight?"

"Yeah," he muttered, "Just like every Friday. I think it's her highlight of the week."

"Yachiru's too. You really are a nice young man Grimmjow. I don't know many boys who walk their younger sisters to school. Is your mother still away on that business trip? I would like to invite her round for coffee when she gets back."

"I will let her know," Grimmjow said, grin fading, waving a hand in dismissal and as goodbye as he continued his way to school. Every Friday, Nel would stay the night at her little friend's place, and he had the flat to himself. He usually used that time to work late at the bike shop, then afterwards go out with the guys and sometimes bring a girl home. If she was lucky.

He cracked a grin at the thought of letting lose, and sauntered through the school gates, basking in the heat of many admiring pairs of eyes that followed his body's every move.

What could you do? His feline grin widened. He knew he was the king of this place.

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XXX

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"What's wrong Ichigo?" Orihime's clear brown eyes widened.

"Nothing," Ichigo replied, stabbing at his lunch vehemently, a scowl etching itself deeper into his face.

"Pfft, he's always like this. Couldn't you try to a little nicer?" Tatsuki demanded, turning her body to face him.

Ichigo looked at Orihime, and his gaze softened.

"Sorry, Inoue. I was just thinking."

"That's okay! Sometimes I get lost in thinking too." She smiled and placed a hand over his.

Her hand was warm and soft and her eyes were big and bright. Ichigo knew he should do something, be feeling something, for this beautiful girl who was comforting him. Yet he was wooden inside. He had been that way for six years, and it wasn't about to change. Not even for this beautiful, kind hearted girl. The contact made him feel awkward, and he wasn't sure if he should stay like that, or remove it. His fingers twitched involuntarily, as if frustrated with his indecision. Luckily, Orihime's phone rang, and she removed her hand to answer it.

He let out a silent breath that he hadn't realised he was holding in and returned to his food. Eating was something mechanical he could do on autopilot. It occupied him and he didn't really have to interact with his other friends aside from a nod or grunt in the rights places as the conversation ebbed and flowed around him.

If they knew the truth, he doubted any of them would want anything to do with him.

He caught Tatsuki staring at him inquisitively, as though she sensed something was off. He looked down at his plate and was saved by the bell that announced lunch period was over. As he put his rubbish in the bin he looked up to see another pair of eyes on him. But not Tatsuki's. These eyes belonged to someone much more dangerous.

_Stupid ass_, Ichigo thought,_ if he has a problem with me, he can damn well deal with it on his own. Especially as I went by the shop on Wednesday and the bike still wasn't fixed. Said next week. _He snorted in derision; he hadn't really expected anything less.

"So when are you gonna ask her out?" Tatsuki had been waiting for him outside. They fell in step as they made their way toward the classroom.

Ichigo frowned.

"Huh?"

"Damn it, you're so dense sometimes! I knew all that orange wasn't good for your neurones." she punched his arm. "Orihime. When are you going to ask her out on a date? It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"I -," Ichigo stammered, this sudden ambush taking him by surprise. _ Don't want to. _His mind finished the sentence for him. But something else came out his mouth. "Between school and the clinic and the pre-med requirements I have to study for, I don't think I would be much fun to date."

"She wouldn't mind. Come on Kurosaki, any boy in the school would kill to have her even speak to them. Half the girls as well," she mused, "I think Keigo nearly had a heart attack when she held your hand earlier."

"Just drop it Tatsuki." Ichigo snapped. Anger always was his fall back.

"Fine. Gods Kuroski, I think you're the only guy in the world who would refuse…" her words trailed off into nothing as something dawned on her. "Are you gay?" She delivered the question bluntly.

Ichigo stopped in his tracks.

"What the hell Tatsuki? I'm just busy and don't have the time." And with that he stalked off into the classroom.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," she sing-songed after him.

Ichigo's scowled intensified and he sat with a defiant slump in chair. As if he didn't have enough on his plate already.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Those eyes.

Grimmjow couldn't fucking stand it.

That damned bastard Ichigo was acting like he owned the place, that girl Orihime fawning all over him, hanging on his every word. The orange haired teen simply scowled as everyone fell at his feet. When then should really be falling at _his _feet.

That feeling of elation he had felt this morning was giving way to something more blood thirsty. Grimmjow felt a muscle twitching near his temple. He wished he had eaten outside on the back wall with Nnoi. Instead, he was sitting in the cafeteria with Stark sprawled at his side, and six girls that kept on fluttering their eyelashes at him. Or Stark. Whoever of the two that deigned to look at them.

Their incessant chatter was getting on his nerves. The high pitched giggles were the worst. He had decided to eat in here in an attempt to chat up a girl, or two, or even three, invite them out tonight and then fuck them senseless. Not even in that particular order, although sex on school grounds had lost its thrill long ago.

Instead, he found himself sneering at how pathetic all these school girls were. Sure, they were all over him, but he was sure that they would be all over Kurosaki in the blink of an eye. Fickle feminine wiles and all. Perhaps all he needed was an older woman. Tch, he would see tonight.

"Yo Stark," he said standing up in a fluid movement. "Let's go see Nnoi," he jerked a thumb in the general direction of the exit just as the bell rang. The girls all scrambled to get their bags, casting longing looks as they went to class. He ignored them pointedly.

Stark raised his head sleepily, long brown locks tumbling forward.

"Mmhm," he murmured lowly, "Don't know if I can be bothered with our next class,"

Grimmjow agreed. Although he tried not to, sometimes the temptation to skive off was just too damn tempting.

"Let's beat it. I can show you guys my new baby."

He cracked a feline grin at that, all thoughts of Kurosaki chased to a corner of his mind. His new baby was a motorbike. He had been after it for years, scrimping and saving a bit here and a bit there to get it. Now that he and Nel were pretty much stable, he had finally bought her. The new Pantera.

Just outside the garage at the back of the bike shop, Nnoi gasped and Stark hummed in appreciation.

Sleek black and silver lines defined her as she glimmered in the sunlight, all smooth metal and sharp angles. She was long, sinuous and lustrous, just like a feral cat. Her engine purred sensuously. She was like sex on wheels.

She fitted Grimmjow down to a T.

When they had finished drooling, Nnoi finally got the wits to ask if he had taken her out yet.

"Not very far, but she rides like a dream," Grimmjow replied, sharp canines visible in a cocky grin, as though he were a proud father and someone had just complimented his offspring.

Suddenly, both Stark and Nnoitra's cell phones were ringing, breaking the appreciative atmosphere.

"Sorry Grimm, we're gonna hafta bail. Duty calls an'all." Nnoi shot him a grin that was all teeth.

"Don't forget, the offer still stands," Stark placed his hand on Grimmjow's shoulder as they both took off. "If ever you change your mind,"

"I doubt it." Grimmjow watched them leave before turning back to the garage. He still had several hours' worth of work left in the shop, and that damn Kurosaki's bike to fix too. Loath to take his eyes away from Pantera, he settled for giving her a loving polish before doing his other duties.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo regretted ever saying yes to Keigo. Why did he come here? What was this uncharacteristic break from his schedule about? It was all Tatsuki's fault: that dumb "all work and no play" comment had got to him.

_Nothing to do with what happened this morning, _a voice whispered in his head.

The head pounding music, the writhing bodies, the scent of sweat and flesh and sticky sweet alcohol clogged his senses and all he wanted to do was bail. He wasn't going to have any fun here. Hell, he never had any fun anywhere – why did he even consider this an option? The others had all disappeared, gradually abandoning him, leaving him in his lonely corner.

Mizuiro had, astonishingly, flirted his way into dancing with a rather attractive blonde older woman, and Ichigo belatedly realised, they were doing more than just dancing. Blanching slightly at the sight of his friend's head buried in an impressive cleavage, he scanned the crowed club for his other friends. But nothing was visible in the darkened area.

He vaguely debated going up to the second floor mezzanine to get a better vantage point, but that would entail a fight to the stairs, a fight to the balcony and an unending stream of semi-conscious bodies pushing against him. Even the thought made him queasy. Shaking his head, he made his decision and headed towards the door.

Eventually making it out in one piece – there was even a throng of people at the entrance – he breathed in the night air with a sense of relief. He walked a slight ways down the street, passing the queue to get into the club, a couple making out in a dark alley and a row of badly parked cars.

Turning onto a quieter street, he checked his back pockets to make sure he still had his wallet and keys, only to find a packet of cigarettes. He vaguely remembered Keigo thrusting them into his hands at the beginning of the evening because they "ruined his ass line" or something equally ridiculous, before he disappeared. He stopped to lean against the side of the wall, considering the red and white packet of Lucky Strikes. He hadn't smoked since…well, not for a long time.

Shrugging, he opened the packet to find it half empty and a lighter filling up the space left. He slowly put one in his mouth and cupped his other hand around to create a wind free environment to light it in. Sucking in, it flared to life. The smoke tangled past his tongue and down his throat, sending an instant relief to his head. He exhaled slowly, watching the grey swirls form patterns in front of him.

Always the son of a doctor, he couldn't help but hear a snide voice in the back of his head sneer _how many minutes is that off your life? Six?_

Ichigo quietly silenced it, taking another drag. He hadn't done anything this unpredictable in a very long time. He needed it. He looked up at the sky, where a few stars were visible despite the Karakura light pollution. It had to be around one in the morning.

He stood there for a long while, thinking about nothing. It was nice, thinking about nothing. A random cat decided that it needed company and entwined itself through his legs, rubbing and purring against him. Ichigo bent down and absently scratched between its ears. It was warm and alive, and helped the keep the icy fingers that grasped his soul at bay.

An annoying jingle broke the companionable silence and Ichigo felt a vibration coming from his back pocket. Strangely enough, the cat simply looked at him indignantly when he stopped stroking it and sat down haughtily next to him. It began to wash itself. Chuckling, Ichigo read the text from Keigo asking where he had gone off to, hopefully hinting he had gone home with a girl. To which Ichigo replied simply, _home, tired_. He looked at the cat little more before deciding to light up another cigarette. That warmth helped keep them away as well.

They stayed like that a while more before the cat perked its ears up suddenly and made a bolt for it. Ichigo immediately looked around, but was unable to see the source of its distress. He was just about to settle back against the wall when thudding footsteps pounded around the corner.

"Hey, have you seen a cat anywhere?" the runner wheezed lowly, bent over slightly in the darkness.

The smooth breathless voice sent an electric jolt down Ichigo's back and his mouth went dry. Exhaling smoke slowly, he evened his voice as he replied:

"Yeah, it just took off."

The stranger stepped into Ichigo's line of vision, and one look told him he knew the person.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

* * *

XXX

* * *

"Fuck," Grimmjow muttered, eyeing the obnoxiously orange haired kid who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, a cigarette dangling dangerously from his lips.

This Ichigo was a far cry from the one he knew from school. A leather jacket hung off his lean frame, a simple purple t-shirt visible beneath it. Black skinny jeans clung to his legs in all the rights ways, held up by a studded belt. His hair was mussed, his eyes bright, his lips…his lips pink and soft.

Grimmjow shook himself; he was _not _staring at his classmate's lips. He watched as Ichigo took another drag, his lips puckering slightly and his eyes fluttering as he inhaled. _Alright, _he admitted, _maybe I am looking at his lips_. He felt heat run through him like quicksilver, spreading through his nerves leaving them singing. As Ichigo exhaled he stared directly into his eyes, the deep chocolate brown pinning him to the spot, sending a surge of something hot and heady to pool in his belly and between his legs. Grimmjow growled; a wild, feral sound that startled the both of them.

"The fuck you so angry about?" Ichigo muttered, flicking ash onto the ground.

Grimmjow had no reply to that, so he simply snarled again. The tension he had felt a moment ago turned into something more manageable: anger. The bizarre role reversal he had felt upon seeing Ichigo looking so damn sexy whilst he himself was scruffiness incarnated – the cat had bolted when he was getting ready to go out and meet his booty call, and all he was wearing were an old pair of jeans and a white wifebeater – was wearing off and his natural attitude was resurfacing.

"None of your damn business Kurosaki," he scowled, pissed that instead of hooking up he was out and talking to his asshole of a classmate.

"Tch," the other countered, putting the cigarette to his lips again.

"Stupid bloody cat ran away," he said, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets making them sink lower down his hips. Ichigo's eyes seemed to flicker downwards for a split second, but Grimmjow blinked and missed it. He was too busy realising that what he just said sounded not only pathetic but down right stupid.

"Tch," Ichigo replied again, a light tapping of his tongue against his teeth. "It's half one in the morning. Why are you chasing a cat?"

That was a good question. Why was he chasing that stupid cat and now talking with this damn bastard? But his lips moved before he could think better of it.

"Nel -," Grimmjow bit back a reply; nobody at school knew about Nel. Nobody except Nnoi and Stark that was. But Kurosaki was staring at him with those damn eyes that he hated so much and he had no choice but to continue. He made it short and curt.

"It's my little sisters pet. It somehow escaped. She'll be devastated if I don't get it back."

"Mmhm," Ichigo nodded slowly as though this explanation was perfectly rational. Then he did something unexpected.

"I'll help you look for it,"

"No thanks Kurosaki, I don't need any of your help," Grimmjow snarled at him. He didn't want to stay any longer than possible with this kid that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The condescending offer of help offended him, as if Ichigo thought he was the better man. "You should probably run along home now – isn't it past your bedtime anyways?"

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, his scowl becoming deeper.

"What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that? I was just being nice. You should try it sometime." He pushed off the wall and began to walk away.

"Don't just walk away from me you brat!" Grimmjow menaced, "I know you're anxious to get home to your precious _mummy _and all –"

His words were choked off as he found himself pinned against the wall, Ichigo's forearm pressing dangerously against his throat, brown eyes dancing with rage. Shit, he hadn't even seen the kid move. He pushed the other's shoulders roughly, trying to get free, but couldn't seem to make him budge. He pushed harder and the other released him, backing up a few paces. Grimmjow's blood seemed to be several degrees hotter as it flowed through is veins and pumped in his ears.

Nobody touched him like that and got away with it. _Nobody._ He balled up a fist and aimed a punch at Ichigo's jaw line. The other moved at the last minute and all he did was graze an ear. The slighter teen backed up, shaking slightly.

"I don't want to fight you," he said softly.

"The fuck you don't," Grimmjow growled, "I know you do, you damn well started this and I'm gonna damn well finish it."

He advanced slowly, expecting the orange head to simply turn on his tail and run. But much to his surprise, he adopted a defensive stance and held his ground. _Good_, Grimmjow thought, _I've wanted to show the bastard who's boss for a while now._

He had at least thirty pounds on the kid, but he realised from earlier what he had in brawn the other had in speed. He simply needed to use this knowledge to his advantage. Not that being strategic when fighting was his strong suit.

He aimed another punch at Ichigo's head, but the other ducked and batted away his arm. Not wasting any time, Grimmjow kicked out into his stomach. It didn't wind him as he expected, but the force behind it unbalanced Ichigo.

Grimmjow struck again, his fist connecting with the other's lip. Ichigo recovered from the hit and retaliated, a sharp punch making it past Grimmjow's defences and landing just above his eye. Shit did that kid have some strength. Not to be outdone he turned and pushed Ichigo roughly, feeling the sharp sting of blood dripping into his right eye. Ichigo landed a well place foot in his gut, the movement sending the blue haired teen stumbling back.

With a snarl Grimmjow launched himself at his orange haired opponent, kneeing him in the stomach. Ichigo stumbled backwards again but not before landing another punch, this time on Grimmjow's jawline. Ichigo lashed out again and Grimmjow felt the muscles tense in his side as his opponent landed another blow. He stumbled forward, his knuckles colliding with something hard. Not flesh, but concrete.

Somehow, they had twisted round in the fight, and now he had Ichigo trapped against the wall he was once so nonchalantly leaning against.

Ichigo's lips were bruised and swollen looking, as though they had been stung by bees. A crimson-stained grimace was on his face, teeth stained pink from blood and saliva. The red liquid covered his chin, smeared as though Ichigo had wiped his face sometime during the fight.

He could feel the orange haired teen's raspy breath on his cheek and the heat of his body caught between the wall and himself. The world was spinning and all he could focus on were flickering shades of gold and orange, dancing in front of his eyes in the glow of the streetlight. Again the heat spread like wild fire, adrenaline giving way to something else, something out of control, something much more primal. It stirred up some vague recollection, some memory his mind couldn't quite hold onto…Then that contact was gone and he was sitting on his ass on the cold, hard pavement.

_The fuck? _ Grimmjow thought to himself. Apparently, that blow to his temple had done some damage. Ichigo was bent double, using the wall as support. He stared down at him with surprise apparent in his wide brown eyes, tempered by something else. Something Grimmjow couldn't quite place. Or didn't want to place.

They gazed at each other.

Then the Ichigo turned on his heel and fled as though the hounds of hell were personally after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Obviously.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Ichigo sat on his bed, breathing heavily. His heart was threatening to hammer its way out of his chest as his cradled his head between his hands. He had half sprinted, half run the five miles home after his fight with Grimmjow.

He shouldn't have lashed out like that. There was no way Grimmjow could have known - he was just being his usual asshole self. No, the blame lay entirely in Ichigo's lap.

Memories that he tried so hard to keep at bay came thundering back, invading his mind with their icy grips. Ichigo closed his eyes, too weary to even attempt to stem the onslaught.

_"Come on mummy, its fun!" Ichigo laughed, splashing in the puddle that had formed in the rain. His yellow anorak a little too big, it sheltered him from most of the freezing water._

_They walked along the path by the river that was swollen to twice its usual size and gushing from the sudden influx over the past few days. It didn't usually rain like this in June, but it had been an exceptionally dry year and this reprieve from the heat was welcome._

_"You look so cute Ichi," Masaki teased, watching her nine year old giggle and try to splash water on her. Then he stopped and darted off toward the river, a blur of yellow and orange as his hood fell back._

_She heard his small voice cry out, _

_"No, don't stand there! You'll get pulled in!"_

_Ichigo was trying to get a small dark haired girl his own age away from the water where she was standing dangerously close to the edge. But as she grasped his hand, her small foot slipped on the muddy bank, and they both went tumbling into the turbulent waters._

_Ichigo felt freezing currents grip him as he tried to swim, but the weight of his clothes was pulling him down. He kicked off his shoes and tried to spot the girl, spluttering as river water went up his nose and down his throat. The urge to sneeze gripped him, and he as he did he was once again submerged. The more he struggled, the more futile it seemed. So he stopped, and simply felt as though he were floating away in the murky water. He was glad that at the very least his mother was safe._

_And then she wasn't. His eyes snapped open as he felt her familiar presence by his side. He saw her fighting for him, kicking against the strong current, long chestnut hair tangling around and she gathered his small form in her arms and made her way towards the shore. But he had ingested too much water, and though he kept fighting it, the darkness engulfed him and the water swallowed him whole._

_He remembered being on all fours in the mud, vomiting from the very pit of his core, and pain setting in from every nerve of his body. Then he blacked out again._

When Ichigo had finally regained consciousness, he was in a hospital bed. His first thoughts had been of his mother and the girl, and he had jumped out of bed, ripping the IV cords out and stumbling towards the door. He had almost made it before the nurses caught him and put him back. He was informed that his mother had saved the girl and himself, but had developed pneumonia.

She had subsequently died from it.

To this day, Ichigo didn't understand why she had died from such a common disease. Actually, that wasn't true, he understood the process. The pneumonia had taken hold in her lungs and they had deteriorated to the point where his mother couldn't breathe unassisted. She had been hooked up to an EMCO that helped the acute respiratory distress, which should have saved her life. However, it had only helped her for a few days and she had simply died from respiratory failure.

Respiratory failure caused by fluids filling up her lungs, the very fate she had been saving him from.

The irony was not lost on Ichigo.

He had destroyed the centre of his family's universe. They no longer functioned without her, they were simply four people living together, spinning slowly out of orbit. And Ichigo was entirely to blame.

He had stopped smiling that day. It was the same day he made the vow to repair his family anyway he could. He worked in the clinic to help his father, training to take a bigger part in it as soon as he was qualified. He saw that the twins would want for nothing. He made sure to hide his emptiness from them so they wouldn't worry. He kept up this facade all the time, his control absolute.

Even so, in the process, he had lost himself. The smiling Ichigo that splashed in puddles no longer existed. He was wooden on the inside, frozen by the icy fingers that had clutched him that night. That night, the night all the happiness had been sucked from his world, Ichigo had acquired something in exchange; something he never asked for. In exchange for his happiness, he instead got the prickling sensation of a cold breeze flowing over his soul whenever someone was near death. That was what the water had given him.

It was the punishment he deserved.

Ichigo slowly got up and changed out of his clothes. He started slightly as he pulled his t-shirt over his head - the fabric had grazed his cut lip. He put on some pyjama bottoms and went to the bathroom to examine the damage.

A brown crust had formed across his chin where the blood smear had dried. He felt his jaw gingerly and deduced that it didn't feel as bad as it looked. Nothing some antiseptic and cotton balls couldn't fix. A few other bruises and scrapes made themselves known, and he knew that he smelt like an ashtray, but he really couldn't be bothered to do anything about it.

He collapsed into his sheets, mentally and physically exhausted. Sleep didn't claim him though; instead his mind was full of the fight.

Grimmjow's comment had set something in motion that Ichigo didn't quite understand. The fight had awoken fire in his veins, his frozen interior melting beneath an inferno brought on by feelings of rage that only the blue haired teen seemed to be able to provoke.

That night, Ichigo hadn't run because he was scared of losing. Ichigo had run because the all-consuming flames in his gut grew with every passing second he spent in the other's presence.

And where there is fire, someone is sure to get burnt.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Grunts and moans were all that could be heard in the darkened room as Grimmjow pounded into the auburn haired woman he had agreed to meet that night. She moaned his name over and over as her arms collapsed from supporting her own weight on the western style double bed. The room smelt of perfume and incense, a potent aroma that was giving Grimmjow a headache. The dimmed light caught the long strands of hair that flowed from the back of the woman's head as she arched her head back in pleasure. The shimmer reminded Grimmjow of another head he had seen reflected in the streetlight and found that he was more aroused than he had been all evening. Going faster, harder, he reached his climax in a blinding moment of release. He moved away from the now prone figure that lay draped over her bed, pulling up his jeans and boxers without bothering to wipe himself down.

_Fake, _he found himself thinking. _It's just so fake_.

Looking down at the beautiful figure sprawled across a purple duvet, large breasts heaving and sweat glistening across her pale skin, he couldn't help but feel unsatisfied. Sure, Rangiku Matsumoto was worlds away from the immature teens at his school, but he found that he didn't want the soft luxuries that her body could provide him.

"This is why I like you Grimm. You know what you want and don't give any quarter." She smirked at him, and winked. "Good thing I like it rough too."

"Don't call me Grimm, woman." He ran a hand through his sweaty blue locks, turning to go.

"Going so soon?" she questioned, sitting upright, unabashed in her nakedness.

"Yeah. It's late."

"Then stay over," came the sultry response. "I have sake."

Not even bothering to answer, Grimmjow strode out of the room and out of the apartment, not breaking his brisk pace until he reached his bike. Slipping on his helmet, he tried to shake the deeply unsettling feeling that he had left something unfinished.

Gripping on tight, he started the engine and roared off into the darkness that only exists when night had ended but before morning begins.

He got home in record time and stripped, dumping his clothes in the washing machine as he made his way to the shower.

The hot water soothed him, washing away the flowery scent that seemed to cling to his skin. The tender area around his eye stung a little, and he realised that he also had an ugly looking bruise on his ribcage. Another was forming on his jawline. His knuckles were scabbed from where they slammed into the concrete, and the scalding sensation the hot water provoked made him feel as though they were being cleansed.

All in all, his night off had been no fun at all.

Even if after Kurosaki had scarpered he had managed to track down the damn cat – it was currently sleeping in his bed – and even if Matsumoto seemed turned on by his ruffled, bruised appearance (Grimmjow knew it just made him look more badass) he still felt as though the night had been a failure.

_Maybe I'm just too picky,_ he mused as he lathered up his cerulean mane, washing the sweat and dirt of the evening away. _Gotta a lot of girls waiting for me not to call, not one of them worthy of my time._

He snorted and rinsed. Of course _he_ wasn't the problem. It was the others.

Especially that Kurosaki kid.

* * *

XXX

* * *

"Kami, Ichigo, what happened to your face?"

Monday morning at Karakura high school, the place where gossip spread faster than wild fire.

Ichigo scowled at his friends' curious faces as the stood in front of the school gates.

"It's nothing," he muttered, turning to make his way towards their classroom as the bell rang in their ears.

"Ichigo did this happen at the club? Did you get into an awesome fight? Kami, I wish I had seen it, it must have been mega-cool -"

"Keigo, if you don't shut your face I will shut it for you." Ichigo's glare turned murderous as he looked at his friend, who gulped visibly.

Inoue fussed over him and Tatsuki glared as Ichigo shrugged them off.

Taking his usual place by the window, he tried not to think of what happened for his lip and lower jaw to look as though he had walked into a sledgehammer. The swelling had gone down since the fight, and the cut was only visible on the inside of his lip. It stung like hell whenever he drank something acidic. Still, mottled yellow bruising was discernible, marring his tan skin – not too noticeably, only if you got close.

His friends had personal space issues though; despite the way he flipped out whenever they got too close.

Yuzu had gone all mother hen on him in the morning, and Karin had simply smirked into her cereal. The worst was his dad though, he had decided that Ichigo was apparently still lacking in survival skills, and had taken to attacking him on sight, whatever the situation.

As if his life wasn't awkward enough already.

It seemed that the gods had it in for him today, because at that very moment Grimmjow Jaegerjaques sauntered into the room as though he owned the place. The way his uniform was hanging off his muscular frame just oozed confidence and sex appeal.

Ichigo couldn't help but shoot a sideways glance at him, curious the see the damage.

Looking quickly away, he fumed at how unfair life was. The black eye and bruised jaw only seemed to highlight Grimmjow's rugged handsomeness, the blue and purple marring his perfect skin and setting off his eyes in a way that was staggering.

Electric blue sought syrupy brown, and despite himself Ichigo found himself staring into those mesmerising pools. A light blush traced its way across his cheeks and he quickly looked the other way, feigning interest in something out of the window.

Damn him and what he did to him. Ichigo wanted nothing more than to jump over his desk and add to the bruises that were on the blue haired teenager's face. Anything to alleviate the strain he felt in the other's presence. His hands clenched into white knuckled fists, small crescents forming on his palms as fingernails threatened to draw blood.

Grimmjow made his way towards his own desk without a word as Ichigo pointedly ignored him. He had half expected a confrontation, but this nervous tension was a thousand times worse.

Kami, his life really couldn't get any more awkward.

* * *

XXX

* * *

School passed without incident. Soon enough, Grimmjow was making his way to the bike shop, Nel in tow. Her short green bob bounced around as she took three steps for every one of his.

He was lucky that the owner was so lenient – so long as Nel stayed in the back and didn't disturb them, he was allowed to take her to work. Grimmjow had no idea how he wold have managed if not, seeing how expensive day care was.

But Kisuke was an eccentric boss; coming in at unusual times and filling the garage and store room with such a strange assortment of machinery that Grimmjow reckoned he must be a mad scientist. Especially upon seeing the odd contraptions he sometimes came up with.

Not that he minded. He helped carry the heavy boxes, took care of the customers, stacked the shelves and did other odd jobs around the place. When his mother had still been around this place had become his escape, and now that he had been working here for almost four years it felt like a second home.

As they arrived, Nel let go of his hand and rushed off to the corner she usually sat in, several toys, paper and crayons waiting for her. Squealing in delight she settled down, pink worm in one hand, a tiny toy bike in the other. Apparently in her world bikes flew and worms could easily pilot them.

Grimmjow hoped she would stay that innocent for a good long time.

He was just settling into his work routine in the back when he heard a jingling that indicated someone had entered the shop. He ran a hand through his hair and meandered his way into the main area.

A shock of bright orange told him all he needed to know about the customer.

Heat pooled into his body and he tensed, not knowing what to expect.

Ichigo looked anxious as he nervously rubbed the back of neck with his right hand.

Grimmjow thought he might turn and run again given how he had been avoiding him at school, but his classmate surprised him by speaking up.

"Look, I'm here for my sister's bike." He said tersely.

_Shit, _he had, despite being seemingly obsessed with the fiery teenager, clean forgotten about that bike. He calculated it would take him about a couple of hours to fix it.

"Oh yeah the girly bike."

"Well yes, it's my sister's."

"Heard you the first time Kurosaki."

"Don't call me that."

"Alright Strawberry."

"Don't call me that."

"What's wrong with Strawberry?"

"Kami, Grimmjow, can't you just say my name right?" the teen's scowl intensified.

Grimmjow had to repress a shudder as that gravelly baritone pronounced his name, rolling it off his tongue, making it sound ten times better than anyone had ever pronounced it before. He didn't know why, but being called by his first name sounded strangely intimate.

"Well, anyways," he replied, his face curving into a controlled smirk as he watched the annoyed teen eye him warily, "It'll be done in a couple of hours if you can swing by then."

"I think I'll wait here." Ichigo's face was inscrutable, "You know, so you don't forget."

"No non personnel allowed in the back," Grimmjow replied, smirk still in place.

"Oh, I'm sure your superior won't mind. Especially as I'm a paying customer who has been waiting a _long_ time for a simple problem to be fixed."

And with that, Grimmjow had no choice but to allow Ichigo to follow him into the garage workshop.

Nel looked up from where she was playing curiously.

"Grimmy you have a friend!" She exclaimed her eyes wide as she abandoned her game to come running to them.

"Hello, my name is Neliel," she beamed up at Ichigo, hand extended in friendship.

Grimmjow turned defensively toward Ichigo, fully prepared for whatever teasing this new event brought forth. However he was surprised to see him crouching down to Nel's height, a small smile on his lips, his eyes softer than Grimmjow had ever seen them before.

"So you are the famous Nel. I'm Ichigo, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he took the small hand and solemnly shook it.

"Itsugo!" she giggled, "Your hair is bright,"

"So is yours," Ichigo smiled back at her again

"So is Grimmy's! That must be why you are friends." She nodded sagely before dragging Ichigo off to her corner, mumbling excitedly about bikes and toys and orange hair.

Grimmjow stared after them in amazement. The grouchy teen with the permanent scowl had disappeared and been replaced with a smiling young man. Ichigo positively glowed as Nel clambered into his lap, apparently wanting to touch his hair.

Grimmjow felt a pang of jealousy, although over what he wasn't sure.

"Nel, quit bugging him," he snapped. "Kurosaki, leave my sister alone. And try to be quiet the both of you, I have to do work." Grimmjow turned and busied himself grabbing the various parts required and slamming the down on the workbench with more force than was necessary.

Nel was looking at him with a hurt expression until Ichigo whispered something that made her giggle. Then she grabbed some paper and crayons and immersed herself in drawing. Ichigo settled against a wall, dragging a heavy looking medical book out of his bag.

Soon the only noises were the breathing of the three people and the sounds of Grimmjow taking the bike apart.

An hour passed and Grimmjow found himself shooting looks at the two in the corner. He told himself it was Nel he was checking on, but his eyes kept on sliding toward the orange hair in the corner. Then they slid from the vibrant hair to the brown eyes that were narrowed in concentration. Then they continued down the slope of a straight nose and settled on lips that were wrapped around a pencil that moved slightly as its holder chewed it thoughtfully.

Grimmjow wondered what those lips felt like, if they were as soft as they looked.

Then he shook his head in disgust. What the hell? First the other night, then today…

He was going to have to admit to himself that he found the other attractive. It wasn't like he hadn't been attracted to guys before, but he tended to prefer girls. And come on, this was _Kurosaki. _He was simply a stuck up high-school kid who had nothing to worry about aside from what he was going to wear the next day, and what he was going to eat for dinner. He was an arrogant prick who had never even given Grimmjow the time of day. Not that he had ever asked for it, but still…it was the principal of the thing.

And yet, a small voice in his head was protesting against all of these. He didn't know Ichigo Kurosaki any better than Ichigo knew him. Maybe he was worth getting to know. As he tilted his head in consideration, he realised that his scrutiny of the other was not going unnoticed.

Ichigo's eyes met his from across the room and the temperature seemed to rise by several degrees. Ichigo just looked at him, eyes travelling slowly but surely over what was visible of Grimmjow's body behind the bike and bench. It was a penetrating examination, and Grimmjow's skin tingled as if electrified. His breaths turned short and uneven, and he desperately tried to fight the urge to grab the other by the scruff of the neck and shove him against the wall, although whether to punch him or kiss him he didn't know.

Just anything to escape that gaze.

Then the contact was gone and Ichigo closed his book, storing it away in his bag. He stood and stretched, the tight t-shirt he was wearing beneath his uniform worming up his body and revealing a small slither of flesh.

Grimmjow almost whined when it disappeared again.

Then Kurosaki was glaring at him like usual, his eyes demanding an answer.

Grimmjow cleared his throat as the other approached, stopping a couple of metres away from him. He was both grateful and annoyed at the distance.

"Is it nearly done? Because I have to be getting back."

"Why, got more studying to do?" Grimmjow had honestly meant it as a simple question, but something about this boy brought the beast out in him and it became snarkier than intended.

"Rounds," the other muttered.

Grimmjow raised a baby blue eyebrow.

"My dad owns a clinic. I do morning and evening rounds. Will do more when I get my certificate."

Ah. So that was why he was always studying.

"Yeah I'm about done." He wheeled the bike round and through to the main shop area. Ichigo glanced back at Nel who had fallen asleep on the rug in the corner.

"She's fine. Now come and pay Kurosaki," Grimmjow propped the bike up against the counter and went to the till.

Ichigo handed over the cash as Grimmjow printed out a receipt. It was an almost civil transaction. Until he accidentally touched Ichigo's hand as he handed the receipt back.

Suddenly his heart was too loud in his ears and he had the undeniable urge to pull Ichigo close. But before he could act the other tore his hand out of the grasp and looked down at his extremity as though it had burst into flames. To be honest, it kind of felt as though it had.

Then in an almost exact repeat of the other night Ichigo all but ran from the shop.

Grimmjow couldn't help but utter one last retort.

"Enjoy the ride back Strawberry!"

But Ichigo didn't even rise to the bait and continued his hasty retreat.

Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow finished up with his other jobs. Nel woke up blearily and complained about being hungry. It was time to close up shop anyway.

They walked in companionable silence home, when she chirped up:

"I like Itsugo. He is nice. And you two are friends coz you look like the sky and he looks like the sun and then I can be the grass."

Grimmjow chuckled as he picked his little sister up.

"You always say the best things you funny thing." He swung her round and then placed her on his shoulders for the remainder of the journey back to the apartment. She giggled and wove her hands into his hair.

As they approached the block Grimmjow could see a figure propped up against the side wall. Taking Nel down from his shoulders, he took her hand tightly and slowed to a more cautious walk.

He stomach dropped as they got close enough to recognise the sloppy figure. Hair splayed out in a bird's nest, in a tattered brown dress and smelling like vomit and alcohol the figure opened her arms wide.

"Grimmy and Nel! Come give Mummy a kiss!"

As Nel broke from his grip and went towards her he restrained the urge to grab her and run.

_Shit_. His mother was back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. I would never have thought up something as cool as that.

**A.N - I ****apologise**** for any mistakes. I am very bad at spotting my own typos/grammatical errors.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_Shit shit shit. _Grimmjow thought, his mind racing at a million an hour.

The first week his mother was back, she had been fine. That night, after a shower and some new clothes (old clothes that weren't so disgusting) she was almost sober. She had played with Nel and chattered with Grimmjow about school and work.

He had answered with guarded replies, unsure how to take this new development. After all, ten months was a long time to be gone.

Then the initial happiness she had at being back with her family had worn off. The money Grimmjow gave her to get a new wardrobe bought her a couple days' worth of alcohol.

She claimed she needed it to feel normal.

No matter how hard Grimmjow insisted she was normal without it.

When she had run out and he refused to give her more money, she became violent. Throwing plates, tearing sheets and smashing glasses. The last straw was when she had ripped up Nel's drawings.

Every. Single. One.

Grimmjow had thrown her out of the house. Nel trembled in the corner of the room for an hour, apparently her memories of the epic fights they had had when she was younger still lingered.

He had held her all night in their shared bed, her small body slowly stilling and relaxing into sleep. He himself he hardly slept.

Grimmjow tried to rein his rage in, he really did. However all he wanted to do was lash out, simply because he was so helpless. He was so weak when it came to her.

She came back a couple of days later, crying and saying she was sorry.

He had let her back in and she had been fine for a week. And then the cycle began again.

The only thing keeping him sane was school. He woke up each day expecting the worst, and yet he couldn't help the flutter in his heart whenever he thought about going to school.

Hair vibrant as the sun and soft brown eyes plagued his dreams. They made him feel calm, made him feel safe.

He knew the crush was stupid and it shouldn't help him like this. He should be strong enough to help himself, he didn't need a crutch.

But nothing compared to the flood of intense longing he got whenever he thought about him. It was something that was his, something that he could think about and nothing in his crappy life could taint.

He often thought about their fight. The way it felt to have his body close enough to touch. About the heated look in the garage. And when he thought about him, he felt free. Like nothing could hold him down and he could manage anything.

Grimmjow wondered if he should approach him, but then he was worried that he wouldn't live up to his expectations.

But those few times their eyes met at school or their paths crossed, he felt as though there was a magnetic force pulling them together.

And from the look in Ichigo's eyes, he could tell that he knew too.

* * *

XXX

* * *

The constant routine was grinding Ichigo down, day by day. What he had endured for years, what he had decided was the only path he could follow after that event, what he strived towards was slowly eating away at him. His volatile, carefree attitude had been forcibly forged into a determination made of steel. No matter what the pain, no matter the temptation, he would provide the life his family deserved. He owed it to them. It was a debt he could never pay off.

And yet his steel resolve was crumbling, and he could feel it more as each week passed. Ever since that encounter with Grimmjow, where he had felt –

_Nothing. _Ichigo admonished himself. _I felt nothing._

Yet that didn't help the fact that his dreams were full of endless blue skies and the sensation of flying. No, that wasn't right; the sensation of a never-ending free fall into a light blue abyss, an intense blue that he found himself confronted with day after day at school, in the form of Grimmjow's eyes.

_Maybe I felt something._

It was his only escape. The only way he could even bring himself to wake up each morning was the potential of seeing him again. He went through the motions, but he only woke from his automatic state when the other was around. It was scary how alive he felt in his presence, and how dead he felt the rest of the time.

He hadn't even noticed the dead feeling before Grimmjow. Before their encounter he had known nothing else but the wooden motions of life, those motions he had gotten so used to over the years.

But _him. _ He made his blood pulse and his nerves sing and he was like a drug that Ichigo knew he shouldn't, knew he couldn't have, and he craved it all the same.

The constant studying was the worst. The entrance exams were early this year, and if he wanted to get on the fast track to getting certified he had to do extremely well. So he struggled through huge medical books, absorbed all the jargon, all the knowledge he could get his hands on. He began to feel like a sponge that was too full of water. He wouldn't give himself a respite though. He needed to do this, and if he suffered he deserved it. He would just have to stick through.

The other week, just sitting with Grimmjow in the shop had given him a sense of peace that he had never felt before. He felt no pressure in the other's presence; he felt no spine wrenching sense of guilt. Maybe it was because he didn't know him. Maybe it was because he was such an asshole that he made Ichigo feel more human. Actually, that last statement wasn't true. Maybe it was because when he was with Grimmjow he felt as though he could fly, drunk on the feelings that flooded him, drunk on the need and want and simple _heat_ that flooded his frozen core whenever he was around.

_Alright, so I feel more than something._

Not that he would ever tell the other. He wouldn't want to burden him with that. He doubted that Grimmjow even knew to what extent he affected him.

He made him feel free.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Grimmjow didn't know why he had done it. It was Friday. Nel was safe at a sleepover at her best friend's house. The apartment had been empty and cold without her childish mirth and incessant chatter. His mother had gone again, he didn't know where. He had expected it to be a relief, but instead he felt a soul crushing loneliness that nothing he did could alleviate.

Therefore he found himself at the seediest bar in Karakura town, known as the Rukongai. As he slouched at the countertop, head in his hands, eyes slightly unfocussed, he felt just as lonely, despite that fact the bar was heaving with people. It was almost obscene how close they were packed in.

The guy behind the counter with the lewd tattoo on his face had gladly served Grimmjow and said he would keep him in supply of whiskey for the night. He was currently on his fifth tumbler, and it was only midnight. Contrary to his bad boy image, Grimmjow didn't drink on a regular basis. He had wondered what it was all about. It fascinated and disgusted him at the same time. After all, his mother was addicted to the substance, there had to be some attraction, some redeeming quality that made it all worth it. The hard alcohol was hitting him unkindly, and he briefly deliberated if he should tell the barman to stop before he became a drooling wreck.

Plus, it was making him need to piss on an alarmingly regular basis. He finished his glass and reluctantly hauled his ass off of the barstool, knowing full well that when he got back, someone would have stolen it.

_Probably just as well_, he thought to himself. _Should be getting back anyways._

He meandered through the throng of heaving bodies to the men's toilets, but one waft of the smell of stale urine and fresh vomit that lingered in the room was enough to make him feel uncomfortably queasy: he was literally unable to enter. Instead, he managed to find a fire escape and stumbled into the dark alleyway behind the bar.

No streetlights illuminated this forgotten corner of Karakura town, and even the overflowing garbage bins were a welcome change to the stench he had previously encountered. He edged his way along the wall until he came to a patch of grass, and then relieved himself, sighing as he did so.

Alcohol numbing him pleasantly, his loneliness was banished, replaced by a fuzzy feeling, as though his mind was full of cotton wool. It wasn't all that unpleasant, but the lack of control was slightly unnerving.

Looking into the darkness, his eyes adjusted enough to make out a faint outline of a figure slumped against a wall a little further up the alley. It was trembling slightly, as though it had seen something disturbing.

The alcohol humming through Grimmjow's veins made him curious, and he ambled drunkenly toward the silhouette. However, his feet betrayed him and sent him sprawling the last couple of metres, landing directly on top of his target.

Warm skin met cold hands and all Grimmjow could see were two large, brown, sorrow filled eyes. Tears tracks traced their way down tan skin, in snaking paths that made him want to lick them clean. He felt the simple need to comfort this unfortunate person. That someone could look so sad tore and stabbed uncomfortably at his heart and he did the only thing he that made sense to his alcohol muddled mind.

He found the soft lips he always seemed to be thinking of and pressed his own against them.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo ran, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing, only running, running to forget, to get away, to lose himself.

Another one had died. A woman, with long brown hair, whom he had been treating for a mild case of pneumonia.

He was particularly invested in this case as she had a nine year old son. He had convinced himself that he was interested from a purely professional standpoint, but that wasn't true. He knew it wasn't true even though he wouldn't admit it.

Her situation was improving over the past few weeks and he was sure she would make it. Then that evening, during evening rounds, he had felt that icy premonition creep its way up his spine and make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He ignored it pointedly; it was just his imagination. Nothing was wrong; this morning everyone had been fine, on the mend.

But as he had made his toward her room and the feeling had grown. He had opened the door, feet moving slowly as though he were walking in thick treacle, a leaden pit forming in his stomach.

She was dead. Her eyes gazing unseeingly at the ceiling, a picture drawn by her son clutched in her hand.

Ichigo had managed to check her pulse and confirm what he already knew before woodenly making it to the kitchen where his father was drinking a cup of coffee.

He informed him of the death in monosyllables, eyes dead and unseeing, going through the motions. Ice filled his body, freezing his stomach, his lungs, his heart.

His father nodded once and swiftly made his way to check the patient and call the mortician.

Ichigo felt something snap inside and suddenly found himself running through the dark streets of Karakura.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

Breathe.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

Breathe.

His feet pounded in time to his heart, and he regretted being alive.

He didn't deserve to be alive. That woman needed to be alive, for her son. She was clutching his drawing.

Ichigo's vision blurred as tears ran down his cheeks unnoticed.

He didn't deserve to be alive. _She _did.

They still needed her. His father needed her. His sisters needed her. He needed her. They needed her more than him. His life was worth nothing compared to hers.

He stopped against a wall, sobs finally overcoming him, wracking his exhausted body.

He didn't know where he was, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact she wasn't there and it was his entire fault. And no matter what he did, he could never fill that icy hole that was left in the pit of his stomach.

Something crashed into him from behind and sent him sprawling to the ground. His cold hands met warm skin as he tried to push his assailant off.

Tears blurred his vision and all he could make out in the dark were navy eyes before a pair of lips crashed into his own, crushing the last of his sobbing breaths from him.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo struggled against him for a minute before submitting to the kiss. That was all it was: a simple chaste kiss.

Grimmjow shot up, the contact sobering him in more ways than one.

Ichigo's tear stained face looked up at him, illuminated softly in the darkness. Tears still leaked down his cheeks, but as the brown eyes focused his face transformed into a scowl.

With a snarl, the orange haired teen was up and staring down at him furiously.

"What. The. Hell?!" he snarled at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow picked himself up, a little unsteadily, using the wall as support.

He wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to answer that. _Hello, I am very drunk and am obsessed with your lips_. That didn't seem like the best reply.

"I…" his brain was not cooperating, "I'm, uh, I'm kinda drunk." The sobering effect of the kiss was wearing off.

Well, that was lame. His eyes unfocussed and focused again as he attempted to keep his balance.

Ichigo's scowl deepened and he seemed to realise that Grimmjow was indeed drunk. In fact, he was swaying dangerously against the wall.

A sigh escaped the other's lips and Grimmjow was surprised to suddenly find a strong arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him.

"C'mon, let's get you home," Ichigo muttered next to his ear.

Grimmjow couldn't believe it. He had expected shouting, punches; a possible night spent attempting to crawl his way home. Instead Kurosaki offered him…help?

The walk back was long even though the distance was short. At one point Grimmjow had collapsed in a fit of giggles, the only coherent words being "sun, sky and grass,"

The arm around his waist was warm and strong and Grimmjow leaned into it comfortably.

Ichigo smelt nice. Wait, Ichigo? He meant Kurosaki. No, Ichigo sounded better.

He smelt nothing like strawberries. That was okay though. Grimmjow thought he should inform Ichigo of this fact.

A snort was all he received in reply.

They arrived at the door to the apartment building. Grimmjow attempted to find his keys but failed. He looked at Ichigo imploringly.

"Get your own keys. I'm _not_ going through your pockets."

Grimmjow had sighed and tried to look for them again. But his arms felt like lead and his fingers weren't reacting properly. Instead of looking for his keys, they decided that feeling Ichigo's hair was a much better idea.

It was soft and warm and for some reason reminded him of butter.

Ichigo spluttered and cursed as he shoved his hands away, and began to look for Grimmjow's keys, muttering under his breath the whole time.

"Feels nice," Grimmjow slurred as Ichigo's hands touched his thighs through his jean pockets.

Ichigo blushed and opened the lobby door with the first key. Then he looked at Grimmjow expectantly.

"What?" Grimmjow looked back, nonplussed.

"Which one is your apartment?" the other asked testily.

Grimmjow decided it would be easier to show him than explain as his tongue was feeling thick and lazy. He grabbed Ichigo's hand and led him up one flight of stairs and led him to the first door on the left.

Ichigo slipped his hand out of Grimmjow's, and the blue haired teen almost whined from the loss of contact. Instead he decided to study Ichigo as he turned to key and opened the door to his flat. His hair was messed up and his face still held the stains of dried tear tracks. Belatedly Grimmjow realised that he was wearing some kind of doctor's uniform, blue scrubs and plastic bags over his shoes. It made him look older.

"That shade of blue suits you," Grimmjow said.

Ichigo started as he turned, and looked down at what he was wearing.

"Ah. I forgot about the scrubs."

Grimmjow went through the open door and gestured for Ichigo to follow. The other hesitated, glancing around nervously.

Grimmjow felt his head clear slightly as he entered the familiar surroundings.

"Come on in. It must be at least one in the morning, and I'm betting you have no idea how to get back to your place from here."

Ichigo eyed him warily before stepping inside the doorway.

"Alright," was all he said.

And though that one syllable was all he said, Grimmjow felt as though he had won a small victory. The loneliness from earlier was totally forgotten.

All Grimmjow could see were brown eyes and all he could think of was the feeling of soft lips upon his own, even if it was only for a few seconds. It was seared upon his brain.

He wanted more. He needed more.

Those lips parted again as Ichigo made to say something, but before he could let the words free Grimmjow closed the distance between them and swallowed the words before they could reach the air.

His left hand closed the front door and his right pushed Ichigo against it, tangling into bright hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. (Oh My God) Toshiro's new look is drool-worthy.

**A.N – Reviews! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or even just read this story and kept on going! It's amazing how that simple fact makes me happy. School and work have been kicking my butt recently so this chapter took **_**forever **_**for me to finish. Apologies.**

**Oh yeah. This chapter had a lemon. Just a heads up in case someone missed the M rating.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Ichigo was raw.

Emotions had spread through him throughout the night like wildfires, destructive and leaving untold damage in their wake.

He could still taste the salt of tears in the back of his throat. He desperately needed to blow his nose. Anger and confusion had briefly warred as Grimmjow's lips touched his and the fire that leapt in his gut was tamed to glowing embers as a hand tangled in his hair.

Sensations were all he was capable of. The onslaught of emotions had fried his brain, leaving him incapable of any reasoning.

Lips, warm and soft and demanding against his own.

Wood, hard and cool on his back as he was pressed further against the door.

Fingers, forceful and needy, twisting their way through his hair, calming and exciting and persistent all at once.

He couldn't control it. It was all too much. Ichigo gave in.

With a moan he flipped them around, this time he was pushing Grimmjow into the door, his hand mimicking the other as it tangled in blue, blue locks, pressing their lips bruisingly close. His tongue forcibly stormed Grimmjow's mouth, taking it as his own as they danced around clashing teeth and colliding lips.

Tears began streaming down his face anew as he ground desperately into Grimmjow's body, searching for a closeness that his soul ached for. That wildfire was ignited once again as they moaned their way through an unending kiss. Hurried gasps of breath were snatched in rare moments of respite.

His grip on Grimmjow's shoulder tightened as the other ran a hand down his back and to his ass. Ichigo hitched a long leg around Grimmjow's waist as the other flipped them around yet again in this strange dance of entangled limbs and hungry touches.

That feeling of free-fall, of a never-ending blue bliss, _this_ was it. And Ichigo was lost in it.

Hands ran up and down his body causing shivers that had nothing to do with being cold. He felt Grimmjow's erection hard and rubbing against his own. If he was still capable of rational thought he would probably have been freaking out.

As it stood, all he wanted was more.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Grimmjow was never one to deny himself what he wanted. In fact, he would generally go after it with a determination that bordered on scary. And he wouldn't deny the fact he wanted to fuck Ichigo through the door.

Yet as he held him close, his unique smell intoxicating his senses and sending infinite prickles coursing up and down his skin, he realised that Ichigo's tears from earlier were back and the salty droplets occasionally made their way to the corner of his lips. That blinding lust that had overcome him was slowly receding and he broke their embrace to take a couple of much needed, calming breaths.

Against the door, Ichigo slipped to the ground with a muffled thump, his breathing fast and hitched. Grimmjow felt his heart clench as he watched the crumpled figure in blue scrubs silently lean his head against the wood, eyes shut.

_Shit, _Grimmjow thought, _I made it worse. I broke him._

He still wanted him though, even as the last remnants of alcohol ebbed away into a pounding headache. He couldn't tear himself away as he watched Ichigo try to pull himself together, his front teeth biting a swollen lower lip a little too hard. One brown eye opened and pinned Grimmjow where he was standing feeling useless, arms and hands hanging limply at his sides.

"Think I could get a coffee?" the other croaked.

"Sure." Grimmjow said, fleeing into the kitchen.

_Get your shit together Grimmjow, _he chastised himself as he went to the counter. _Fuck it, I'm still half hard for God's sake._

He sighed as he got out two chipped mismatched mugs. One had little hearts on it.

That was, undoubtedly, the hottest kiss he had ever experienced – and he was no slouch in the romance department. Just thinking about it made him want to go back into the hallway and ravage his classmate all over again. And again. Then maybe a third time for luck.

It had been open-mouthed and violent and uncoordinated and just too fucking perfect.

He sighed once more as he realised he was now completely hard.

A sniff from the doorway alerted him to Ichigo's presence. He was leaning against the doorframe, a little puffy eyed, with the doctor's gear over one arm. He seemed better as Grimmjow shoved a steaming mug into his hand a gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table.

"Thanks," the other said with a soft smile.

Grimmjow's dick twitched at that. _Get a grip, _he admonished himself. He had never felt this out of control of his own body.

He didn't notice the slight downward motion Ichigo's eyes made, nor did he notice the fact he sat down a little more hastily that necessary.

"So," Grimmjow announced pragmatically as he sat opposite Ichigo, "What the fuck happens now?"

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo looked down at the table, wondering how Grimmjow managed to remain so cool whilst his own insides were in turmoil. Yet even as he thought that, he noticed Grimmjow's long graceful fingers held his mug in a white knuckled grip.

He focussed distractedly on those fingers – they looked as though they belonged to a pianist, not a foul-mouthed, arrogant teenager. Ichigo felt the inexplicable need to touch those hands, to take each one of those long digits into his mouth and discover every inch of delicate skin, each callous, to see just how flexible those fingers were…

A light blush dusted across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he attempted to banish those suggestive images from his mind before he jumped the other and continued where they had left off in the hallway. This time, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

He cleared his throat and looked up at Grimmjow. Should he apologise? Explain? Ask? That last gave Ichigo an idea, but he wasn't sure if the other would like it.

"I have an idea," he began hesitantly.

"What?" came the curt reply, "Just spit it out already."

"Okay. So, I don't know shit about you,"

Grimmjow started at that slightly, and Ichigo belatedly realised he rarely cursed in front of people at school. Although he really wanted to he usually held his tongue. Just another effect Grimmjow had on him. The other interrupted his thoughts:

"Yeah so what? I know fuck all about you."

"Exactly. How about you ask me a question. Then I ask you a question. Etc."

Ichigo looked at the blue haired teenager again, wondering what the other would make of it. The idea was even lamer out loud than in it had been in his head. The silence reached past the point of comfortable and transformed into awkward. Ichigo, needing to do something, took a large gulp of his now lukewarm coffee, noticing absently that his mug had pink hearts on it.

Grimmjow spoke at last.

"What's your favourite colour?"

Ichigo nearly snorted his coffee out of his nose. He had just given Grimmjow the right to ask whatever he wanted, and he asked that? Ichigo didn't know whether it was clever or stupid.

"Eh," He rubbed the back of his neck absently, "Red…I guess."

Silence returned.

"Right, my turn…How long have you worked at the bike shop?"

"Since I was fifteen. How long have you wanted to be a doctor?"

Ichigo froze slightly at that. Want? He _had _to be a doctor, it was simple as that. No one had ever asked if he _wanted_ to be one. Did he want to be one?

"I…have to be one. I've known since I was nine."

Grimmjow eyed him curiously.

"Have to?"

"That's two questions," Ichigo deflected, "My turn." He looked around, "Where are Nel and your parents?" That was more wondering out loud, but he supposed it would do.

This time Grimmjow tensed a little. Ichigo cocked his head to one side slightly – it was an innocent question wasn't it?

"Nel is at a sleepover. I don't know about the others." He shrugged as if to brush off an unwelcome thought.

The mugs of coffee sat half empty and cold as they stared at each other guardedly.

"Fuck," Grimmjow banged his fist on the table suddenly making Ichigo jump. "This isn't working – neither one of us are good at talking. Or opening up. Hell, we couldn't even make it to two questions without the atmosphere killing me."

He stood up and made his way over to Ichigo's side of the table in two long strides. The other turned to face him, wearing his usual scowl, unsure of what to expect.

One of those gorgeous hands slowly made its way up to the side of his face and he couldn't help but tremble beneath that touch. He turned his head slightly and lightly brushed his lips against those fingers.

An almost noiseless hiss escaped Grimmjow as Ichigo's tongue slid out and slowly, sensuously, licked the pad of his index. It was rougher than expected and tasted of coffee and salt and warmth. He gently took the rest of it into his mouth and sucked. He heard Grimmjow let out a light moan as he flicked his tongue around the digit, as if he were trying to memorise the fingerprint.

It was slow and erotic and totally different from the blind passion that had possessed him earlier. He was still on fire, but instead of it being a wildfire, raging out of control, it was slow and steady like a furnace, heating every inch of his body.

Grimmjow tentatively withdrew his hand and Ichigo looked up, right into those piercing cornflower blue eyes.

In them, he saw a need that was tinged with worry, one he recognised only too well. It was the need to let go, the need to be oneself; it was a need that got pushed down every day and instead of fading it only grew.

It was a need Ichigo recognised because he fought it every day. Every day he tried to suppress his need, every single day. But here, with Grimmjow, in this strange limbo that seemed to exist whenever the two of them were together, he gave into that need. He didn't fight it. He let go. He was…free.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Grimmjow watched as the fiery gaze that Ichigo had fixed on him hardened into a determined glint. Much the same way carbon forms diamonds when under pressure. A glint that sent a shiver of thrill down his spine, as it promised everything and nothing. It was a gaze that gave no quarter and though Grimmjow was still standing over his orange-haired classmate, it felt as though it were the other way around.

He made no movement as Ichigo stood and drew him close, closer, closer still, until their lips were but a breath apart. Soft breath caressed his lips as Ichigo whispered two words.

Two words that Grimmjow needed to hear but had never heard. Two words that broke all of his self-imposed restraints. Two words that opened the flood gates.

"Let go."

Then Ichigo closed the gap and all Grimmjow could feel were his hands and lips. Suddenly he was against the kitchen wall with the other's body pressed against him, his hands roaming with a purpose.

_No, wait, what? _His thoughts were scattered as Ichigo took over all of his senses.

Vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch: all Ichigo.

He attempted to gain dominance in the kiss but each time he was reprimanded by a sharp bite to his lower lip. And he liked it.

This was something Grimmjow had never experienced before. He was always in control. _Always._ Control was something he couldn't afford to lose and here he was completely lost.

One of the hands pinning him against the wall slid up his body, fingering his collar bone before sliding up to his nape and burying itself in powder blue locks. The movement made the hairs on the back Grimmjow's neck stand on end and a shiver tingle down his spine.

As Ichigo cupped the back of his head to deepen the kiss, Grimmjow made the most of the fact he now had a little more control and pushed his way forward, lips attacking Ichigo's mouth; teeth biting then a forgiving tongue massaging the damage. Ichigo's body moved sensually beneath him as they hit the counter top.

Grimmjow slid his hands from their place on slim hips down to curvaceous buttocks. Gripping tightly he lifted him from the ground to the counter's surface with ease, and he couldn't help but give those perfect cheeks a slight squeeze. This in turn resulted in a sharp tug of his hair from the other, but instead of it having the desired effect of reprimand, the unexpected pain contradicted the heady pleasure so deliciously that Grimmjow couldn't suppress a grunt as his pants tightened uncomfortably.

As if he were reading his mind, Ichigo lithely slid off his perch and down Grimmjow's body, hands trailing suggestively along the way. Grimmjow barely had time to lament to loss of lips against his own before he heard the sound of his zipper and all of a sudden his arousal was freed from its confines and exposed to blessed cool air.

However that cool respite was short-lived as a hot, sinful tongue dragged its way up his thick shaft, eliciting a feral growl from Grimmjow.

He had never been this turned on in his whole life.

He cracked his bright blue eyes open, not even realising he had shut them to begin with, and the sight that met him made his breath catch and his arousal impossibly harden. Whiskey eyes heavy with lust peered up at him through vibrant tangerine locks. Never breaking eye contact Ichigo took him inch by inch into his perfect, hot mouth. Full pink lips forming a sinful o around his swollen skin.

Grimmjow gulped visibly and closed his eyes again, long fingers fisting that sunset hair. Ichigo's hands ran up and down his bare legs, curving around his ass and kneading lightly as the blue-haired teen lost more and more control.

The heat from Ichigo's mouth bobbing up and down was slowly melting his mind and causing his balls to tighten. That wicked tongue traced indeterminable patterns against his skin, slipping over the head, dipping into the salty slit before trailing back down to the base. The fact that he wasn't sucking in any discernible rhythm was driving Grimmjow crazy with anticipation. When he thought he was near Ichigo would slow and when thought he was calming down the other would suck harder.

Grimmjow was just about to push the orange-head against the cupboard and mouth-fuck the hell out of him when he felt a particularly mind numbing pull and a warm, slick finger enter him. He couldn't help the low moan that forced its way up his throat and out of his lips, despite his attempts to repress it.

He opened his eyes again to see Ichigo staring lustfully back up at him, eyes glittering with that wicked gleam.

The weird yet not uncomfortable sensation grew as Ichigo crooked that finger and began to make "come hither" motions inside of him.

_Where did he get the lube? _Grimmjow barely processed the thought before another digit entered him. Then it hit something that made his already weak knees tremble and white lights visible beneath his eyelids.

"Fuck," he hissed tightening his grip on Ichigo's hair, more to keep himself upright than anything else. Those fingers keeps on hitting that pleasure point deep inside of him and that mouth was still on his arousal and Grimmjow was falling, falling, he couldn't hold on any longer as what were once waves of pleasure gradually grew until they were tsunamis, and he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.

Then all of a sudden it did stop. The warmth and bliss disappeared, leaving him feeling empty, unfulfilled and frustrated. His knees gave out and he dropped unceremoniously to the ground in front of Ichigo, trousers still around his ankles.

A fierce growl tore its way free from his chest and he opened his eyes and mouth to voice his displeasure.

The sight in front of him made him lose his breath all over again and that displeasure evaporate as if it had never existed.

Ichigo had wiggled his way out of his own pants and was currently eyeing the blue-haired teen with a syrupy hazel gaze. Grimmjow raked his own eyes up and down the long tan legs that were presented to him, from the toes that were curling and uncurling to the hips that were thrusting upwards.

Ichigo was leaning back on his knees, propped up by one hand. The other was behind his back, but from his position on the floor Grimmjow could see exactly what he was doing; prepping himself. He watched hungrily as one finger then another entered the flame-haired teen, scissoring and stretching the small pink hole. A golden liquid dripped to the floor and he realised belated that Ichigo had grabbed the nearest thing to lube that was on hand; olive oil.

Instead of grossing Grimmjow out it turned him on even more.

He kicked out of his own jeans and crawled toward the teen that was writhing on the floor.

A wicked gleam entered Grimmjow's eyes that could easily rival Ichigo's.

It was _his _turn to play.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo shuddered as he watched through lidded eyes. Grimmjow approached him like a wild cat would stalk its prey, and that thought made him shiver again. This is what he wanted. He wanted Grimmjow to own him, to have him, to make him forget everything all over again. He wanted closeness and he wanted fierceness and he wanted…he just _wanted. _

His fingers were pulled roughly out from their place inside of him and replaced with something warm and wet. Blue eyes gleamed roguishly up at him and Grimmjow speared him with his hot damp tongue. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and instead of being disgusted, as a part of him felt he should be, he simply dropped his head back and moaned.

His erection was stiff and warm against his stomach and it begged for friction. Ichigo brought one of his hands up to give himself relief, but before it could reach its destination it was pinned to the floor.

His knees collapsed underneath him and he stretched out on his back as Grimmjow moved from his place between Ichigo's thighs to hovering over him. Those Egyptians blue eyes penetrated him and he couldn't help as his body moved without his accord. Hips thrust upwards, begging for more intimacy. His hand that wasn't trapped grasped powder blue locks and dragged Grimmjow into a needy kiss. The movement caused their exposed erections to rub against one another and twin groans escaped the teenagers.

"Fuck Ichigo," Grimmjow moaned against his ear, his voice raspy and low, making the other buck again. The way he oozed his name should be illegal.

Their mouths crashed again and Ichigo savoured the tart taste of olive oil that lingered and the unique musk that was only Grimmjow. He slithered up slightly higher so that Grimmjow's erection was positioned above his hole and slowly rubbed up and down on that thick shaft.

Planting his heels firmly on the floor he lifted his hips and felt the blunt head of the other's arousal push against him. But the angle was wrong and his leverage was too weak and he slid back onto the ground.

He wanted it so badly, harsh pants tearing their way out of his throat as he attempted to verbalise his desire.

"Ngh, fuck…fuck me already," he managed between breaths.

Grimmjow smirked at him, but the hunger in that smirk betrayed the fact that own need was just as bad.

"Alright," he growled lowly, sending sparks down Ichigo's spine.

And with that Ichigo found himself flipped onto his knees, thighs parted, strong hands clutching his hips. Ichigo knew that grip would leave bruises and that thought strangely pleased him.

He braced his arms against the cupboard, hands splayed flat on the smooth plastic surface of the door. It was so cool compared to the heat that was engulfing him from head to toe.

Then all of a sudden all he could feel was pressure. Ichigo pushed back into it as Grimmjow slowly penetrated him. The sting was there despite all the foreplay and he couldn't help a whimper that escaped his lips.

Grimmjow bit down hard on his shoulder as he abruptly thrust all the way into Ichigo's tight heat, stopping only when he was fully seated to the hilt.

Ichigo moaned as a soft tongue lapped at the bite between the juncture of his neck and shoulder and a delicate hand wrapped itself around his neglected erection. Grimmjow was trying to ease his tension but Ichigo was having trouble. It hurt; they were no two ways about it. It felt like an invasion, no matter how much he wanted it.

"Just let go," Grimmjow echoed into his ear, throwing his own words back at him.

And like that the fire was back and he moved his hips. Apparently that was all Grimmjow needed because soon he was thrusting rapidly, impaling Ichigo mercilessly each time he plunged into him.

Ichigo shifted his weight slightly and then – _BAM._

"Aaaah, shit – there!" he exclaimed. Heady pleasure engulfed him as Grimmjow hit his prostate over and over.

He could see stars behind the lids of his closed eyes. His whole body was tingling, yet also numb. He could only feel Grimmjow, his range of feeling reduced to a single point inside of him. Everything about this was perfect.

He didn't know how but Grimmjow was going deeper, harder, faster into him with each passing second. Ichigo's head lolled as he arched his back and moaned continuously. He could feel the harsh rasps of the others hot breath against his neck, the occasional low grunts that came with the effort.

"You're so damn tight."

That bedroom voice heavy with lust sent new waves of desire rolling over Ichigo.

He was rocking back into Grimmjow, using his hands against the cupboard as leverage. He was delirious with pleasure and just when he thought it couldn't get any better the hand wrapped around his erection began to move in rhythm.

"Oh my God," he sobbed, unable to contain himself anymore. It was too much, it was overwhelming.

"Gri-im, I, I'm gonna come…" he managed to choke out as the all-consuming sensations wracked his body. With a keening noise he arched his back, eyes closed, body taut. His fingernails scraped against the plastic surface. His mouth was open in a silent scream as he released, his cum hitting the cupboard, dripping over the others hand.

"Hell yes," Grimmjow hissed in his ear before emitting a low groan of satisfaction of his own after two, three thrusts more.

They both remained tensed as they rode out the high of their orgasms, Ichigo barely noticing the fact his trembling arms had slid down from the cupboard to the floor as he floated down on a cloud of ecstasy.

When Ichigo finally came down from his sex high he realised Grimmjow was slowly pulling out of him. The sensation was extremely strange; it almost felt like a loss. He slid into a cross legged position; belatedly remembering that he still had his t-shirt on, as did Grimmjow.

He wanted nothing more than to slip into a boneless sleep, but he was beginning to feel rather grossed out by the sweat and other, less desirable, products that his body was smeared in.

He looked at Grimmjow who was leaning back on his elbows, grinning at him.

"That was fucking amazing,"

"Yeah, it was." Ichigo replied, a languid smile spreading across his lips.

And in that moment he had no worries, no weight, no burdens.

As he sat in the cooling air of Grimmjow's kitchen, looking into the others satisfied eyes that were soft and blue and gazing back at him as though he were the most wonderful thing on earth he felt free.

In that moment Ichigo was happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach. (Ichi is back...soon…please don't be trolling me Kubo)

**A.N – So this was going to be the last chapter, but it ended up being too long (think 10k words…) So this is the second to last! **

**This has mature content kiddies.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Grimmjow awoke slowly, his head groggy yet feeling strangely content. He stretched, reaching his arms above his head and flexing his toes. Then he stopped, feeling the strange warmth of someone next to him. Someone a lot larger than Nel...

A head of fluffy orange hair came into his line of sight as he turned his head slowly. Ichigo smelled of vanilla body-wash and sleep. Last night - or rather early this morning - came rushing back. He let a large lazy smile creep across his face. That, without a doubt, had been the most unexpected, hottest, night of his life. After having sex in the kitchen they showered and collapsed onto the mattress. And Ichigo was still here, passed out on his stomach, grey sheets tangled around his waist, looking as though he belonged. He brightened up the small dreary room in a way Grimmjow would have never imagined possible.

His interphone suddenly buzzed and he realised it must be Nel coming back from her friend's house. He blearily made his way towards the source of the annoying noise, answering in a thick voice. He pushed a button and heard Nel's voice nattering as he hung up. Throwing on a random t-shirt and some jogging bottoms, he opened the door as she came barrelling in, Yachiru's mother standing in the doorway behind her.

"Rough night?" She smiled gently.

"Mmm," Grimmjow muttered noncommittally, "Thanks for bringing her back."

"No problem. Enjoy the rest of your weekend." With a wave, she was off back down the stairs.

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair just as he saw Nel running into the bedroom.

"Ah, shit. Ichigo," He hurried in only to witness his green-haired sister launch herself onto Ichigo's back.

With a groan the teen turned over, awakening in confusion.

"What the -" he stopped short when he saw large sea-foam eyes peering into his own.

"Arrgh!" Ichigo scrambled back up the mattress, dragging the sheets up to his chin and consequentially knocking Nel off to one side.

His hazel eyes widened and he looked at Grimmjow who was standing in the door, looking torn between apprehension and laughter, and Nel who was staring at him with a large gap-toothed grin.

"Goodmorning," he finally managed, his voice slightly rough from sleep.

"Morning Itsugo!" Nel chirped cheerfully.

"Mornin'. Sorry 'bout the rude awakening," Grimmjow smirked as he remembered Ichigo was naked under the sheets.

"Come on Nel, let's go into the kitchen and let Ichigo get dressed."

"Okay! I can tell you all about Yachi's fortress! Her dad built a ..." the chattering faded into the hallway as Grimmjow closed the door, winking at Ichigo as he did.

The teen blushed a little and Grimmjow couldn't help but widen his smirk.

He sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal as Nel continued her story. He nodded and grunted his way through it, but his mind kept on wandering back to last night. Then to the complications of right now, the morning after.

So now they had finally given into that pent up lust – which had come rushing out like a torrent of water through a broken dam – what would happen?

Grimmjow liked Ichigo. He was fiery and strong and hardworking, and Nel adored him. It didn't hurt that he was sexy as hell either. He didn't really seem the type to have a one night stand. Yet on the other hand, yesterday had been crazy and Grimmjow saw that the other may be regretting it. Just because they had sex didn't mean they were in a relationship. Grimmjow knew that very well. He had just never had someone in his home the next morning...and he had absolutely no idea how to react.

A movement in the doorway caught his eye and Ichigo stepped into the kitchen. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before, and had a small smile on his face. It was a nice change from the usual scowl Grimmjow was accustomed to.

Nel was occupied eating biscuits and drinking a glass of milk, so Grimmjow got up and walked into the hallway, the orange-haired teen following.

"So, thanks for letting me stay," Ichigo began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I hope Nel isn't too put off."

"S'fine," the blue-haired teen replied, "so...last night was nice."

Ichigo snorted and looked at Grimmjow, straight in the eyes. The contact sent tingles down his spine and fire through his veins. All he wanted to do was push him against the wall and kiss him.

_What do I have to lose_ he thought recklessly and closed the gap between them, leaving barely a hair's breadth between their lips.

Ichigo's breath was soft and warm, and he could feel the heat radiating off the other's body. Suddenly, the space between their lips was non-existent and Ichigo's were slanted gently across his own.

Grimmjow increased the pressure and felt his toes curl as the kiss deepened. He backed Ichigo into the wall and a hand automatically found its way into bright tangerine locks. He felt a light touch on his hip, and his skin there was electrified.

He slipped a knee between Ichigo's thighs as their tongues flicked sensually against each other. That produced a delightful low moan from the teen pressed against the wall, and all Grimmjow wanted to do was hear that noise again.

"Oooh you're kissing!" A small voice exclaimed in excitement.

They instantly sprang apart, breathless and red-faced.

"Nel..." Grimmjow began, "could you give us a moment?"

She cocked her head to one side, regarding them suspiciously.

"Are you gonna kiss again?"

Ichigo's eyebrows rose as he heard Grimmjow's reply.

"Maybe," he smirked.

"Eww," and with that she disappeared back into the other room.

The two teens looked at each other, and Ichigo couldn't help but crack a smile.

"She's adorable." he commented.

"More like a pain in the ass," Grimmjow replied proudly.

"Ha. So, I should be getting home. I have some...stuff to sort out." There was a determined glint in his eye as he said it that reminded Grimmjow of last night.

As he moved toward the front door Grimmjow realised he wanted to see Ichigo again, not just at school, not just as a random customer at the store.

"Do you wanna come over and watch a film tonight?" he asked carefully.

The other stopped, his hand on the handle. Grimmjow saw his shoulder's tense and prepared for a negative reply. After all, what would someone like Ichigo want with someone like him?

"That would be nice," came the reply.

"Oh that's okay, I get it - wait what?" he blithered as the actual answer sank in.

Ichigo turned around, a smile on his face. "I said, that would be nice."

Grimmjow couldn't help the huge grin that threatened to crack his face in two. He swiftly walked forwards and placed his hands either side of Ichigo's head, pinning him against to door. Soft lips met his and they kissed, slowly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world.

"Eww," another moan of disgust broke them apart and Grimmjow turned his head over his shoulder, grinning manically at his sister.

"Told you so!"

"I thought you were joking!"

With a light squeeze to Grimmjow's waist and anther peck on the lips, Ichigo slipped out of his arms and through the door.

"See you tonight!"

"Yeah," the blue-haired teen replied, a smile across his face.

"Yay!" Nel fist pumped the air, "Grimmy has a friend. Awesome now you guys can play with me an' Yachi!"

Grimmjow laughed: a bright, loud laugh that he hadn't laughed in years.

"I guess so," he smiled and grabbed the small girl with the green bob, whirling her onto his shoulders.

"Come on, let's clean this place up."

* * *

XXX

* * *

Ichigo stood outside of his front door. The walk from Grimmjow's place to his own wasn't actually all that long in the daylight. Taking a deep breath, he walked in, knowing that all hell was about to be let loose.

"ICHIGO MY SON!" came the inevitable battle-cry from his father. Over forty, and he still acted like a child. This is why Ichigo avoided him. Well...that was his excuse.

Dodging the flying kick aimed at his face, he watched his father crumple into a pile on the floor. He could hear the sounds of Karin playing video games in the living room and Yuzu humming to herself as she walked up the stairs.

He took another deep breath and steeled his resolve. There was something he had to say. He had realised it last night as he lay with Grimmjow on his bed, almost asleep, totally content. He was allowed to be happy. He knew that. He just hadn't been able to accept it until now.

"Look old man, we've got to talk." the tone of his voice left no room for argument and Isshin's eyes went from goofy to resolved from his place on the floor.

"I'm listening," he said as he dusted himself off.

Ichigo led the way into the kitchen and leaned against the table, arms folded against his chest.

"I..." now it was time to do it, he didn't know where to begin.

"Is this about last night?" his father asked, his eyebrows betraying his anxiety. After all, Ichigo had taken off without a word and hadn't come home.

"Yes...and no." Ichigo gathered his thoughts. "Last night, I was…at a friend's. I had to get away. Because…well, I've been...different...since mum's death. I still feel responsible. I feel like –" his voice cracked but he continued, " – like I destroyed this family. I know we're not the same without her."

He couldn't hold the tears back any longer and they came streaming down his face, warm and salty.

His father remained quiet, sensing there was more and not wanting to ruin the moment. It was true that his son had been closed off, almost wooden, since his wife passed away. He hadn't known what to do because Ichigo simply clammed up anytime he wanted to talk to him. Grief counselling had been a total fail. That was part of the reason he acted like an idiot - if only to get a small smile out of him. More often than not it pissed his son off, but even anger was better than the emotionless shell he had been turning into.

"I, I didn't want to be happy. I didn't want to be sad. I felt like I didn't even deserve to be alive. But, I've realised, I can be happy. It feels nice to be happy. I know that's what she would want. But...is that what you want?"

Large brown eyes looked up at Isshin and the elder Kurosaki felt his heart clench. All of a sudden Ichigo was nine years old again and his father held him against his chest, stroking his unruly hair, his own voice thick with emotion.

"Of course I want you to be happy. I can't believe...did you honestly think I would resent your happiness?" Isshin held his son at arm's length, looking into those tear-filled eyes.

Ichigo looked down at the floor.

"I...I took her away. It was my fault." he whispered brokenly.

"Ichigo."

The teen still stared at the floor. He felt a light pressure on his shoulders.

"Look at me Ichigo. It's not your fault. It was never your fault."

Isshin's voice was full of conviction and Ichigo looked up. Their eyes met and he realised his father was telling the truth.

"Son, all I want is for you to be happy. To live a good life. That's all I want for you and your sisters. Anything else is beside the point."

And slowly the hole in Ichigo's chest began to heal. Just a little. But it was enough. The ache was still there but less.

"Thanks." he murmured softly.

He laid his head on his father's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being looked after. It took the pressure off, as if another of the iron bonds that held his heart broke.

The first had been broken Grimmjow.

Now his father.

The last…well that was up to him.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Grimmjow hummed to himself as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to style his cerulean hair. Ichigo was coming over in about half an hour and even though he had seen him that morning, he was looking forward to spending the evening with him.

Something about the flame-haired teen made his heart beat faster and when he was in his presence he felt like he had nothing to hide. Even though he had everything to hide, he simply felt as though Ichigo understood. As though he would accept him no matter what.

Grimmjow snorted. One good fuck and he turned into a sap. Still, that smile kept on fighting its way onto his face even as his attempted to resume his usual scowl.

Nope, it was no use.

He heard the buzzer from the interphone and pressed the button to unlock the door without even answering. He hurried to his own door and opened it, smirking as he heard footsteps up the stairs.

He couldn't wait to kiss him again. His smirk grew as he remembered the moan from this morning. He wouldn't mind hearing more of those.

Suddenly there was a person in front of him and he realised it wasn't Ichigo.

"Hello Grimmy." came the soft greeting.

"Hello mother." Grimmjow replied stonily, his grin falling away as though it had never existed.

"That is no face to greet your mother with. Especially when we haven't seen each other for so long."

"It's only been a week." he countered stoically. It was best not to react even though he was seething on the inside.

How dare she show up?

Suddenly Nel came barrelling out of her room, a large smile on her face.

"You're back!" she yelled and threw herself around her mother's waist, hugging her with all her five-year-old might.

Grimmjow watched as his mother looked down, then looked at him, and then looked down again.

"Grimmjow, honey, who is this?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face as she untangled her daughter from her and held her at arm's length, inspecting her face.

"Are you looking after her for someone?"

Nel's face crumpled in confusion and Grimmjow felt as though the floor had been pulled out from underneath him.

What...the...fuck...?

What was she doing? Was she so drunk she didn't remember her own daughter? But she seemed fairly sober...she remembered who he was. How could she be so cruel? What the hell was going on?

Grimmjow felt the anger bubbling beneath the surface but pushed it down.

"This is Nelliel. Your daughter. My sister." he said as calmly as possible.

"That's not possible dear. I only have one child, and that's you." she replied forcibly in a cool, hard tone.

She looked at Nel indifferently, her upper lip slightly curled.

Grimmjow watched as tears began to pour out of Nel's eyes. They fell in a silent stream rolling down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin. Her face was pale and her eyes wide. Aside from her bottom lip trembling, she was standing stock still.

Grimmjow watched as his Nel, the most important thing in his life, his everything, broke before his very eyes. Bubbly, laughing, innocent Nel. She crumbled to her knees, tears continuing, yet she remained totally silent.

Grimmjow snapped. He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly to his chest.

"How dare you? How _dare _you? Get the fuck out!" he screamed, "Go the fuck away. You're not my mother, you're no-one, you're nothing – you don't even deserve to be called human. Never come back here again!"

He attempted to slam the door in her face but she was in the way, and with Nel in his arms he couldn't force her out.

As she moved into flat, Grimmjow's line of sight to the hallway suddenly opened up.

Standing at the top of the stairs was Ichigo. The light caught his orange hair making a halo. His face was in its usual scowl but as Grimmjow caught his eye he felt a myriad of emotions pass between them.

Fear. Disgust. Shame. Confusion. Understanding. Warmth. Trust. Hope.

But nowhere was there pity. And for that reason Grimmjow made a slight motion with his head. Ichigo understood and made his way towards him.

Grimmjow passed Nel to him and the teen held her easily.

"Itsugo," she whispered slowly, a small hand grasping at his collar.

"Hello again Nel," Ichigo said softly, holding her closer.

"Get her out of here. Go to the park. Go to the movies. Go anywhere but here." Grimmjow muttered hurriedly, his eyes sliding to the kitchen where his mother was.

"Alright," Ichigo nodded swiftly.

"How much did you see?" the blue-haired teen asked.

"Pretty much everything," came the short reply.

"Okay. I trust you and so does Nel. I'll phone you when...when this is over."

As Grimmjow turned to the kitchen Ichigo realised something.

"Wait, you don't have my number!"

"Yeah I do. I got it from your phone last night."

And with that he watched the one person he trusted carry his most precious possession out into the world.

_She'll be better off with him than here. Especially with what's about to go down._

He stalked into the kitchen, completely forgetting to shut the front door in his haste.

His mother was sitting at the table, a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"So how was your day at school Grimmjow?" she asked calmly, as if nothing had just occurred.

Grimmjow just stared at her, feeling the anger seething in his stomach, boiling like an angry beast.

"It's a Saturday, mother," he replied through clenched teeth, "And what the hell was that with Nel? Are you so inebriated that you cannot even recognise your own daughter?"

She looked at him, grey eyes puzzled.

"Grimmjow, what is this insistence? I'm not drunk and I don't have a daughter,"

She put the glass to her lips and finished the contents in one go. As her hand went to fill it again Grimmjow couldn't help himself. He lashed out, sending the glass flying and shattering against the cabinets.

"You just had to make this worse," he growled, "We were fine without you and you just had to come and fuck her up some more! What's your problem? Is no one in your life allowed to be happy? Is that it? She is FIVE years old for fuck's sake!" he raged.

She stood up to her full height, eyes flashing.

"No son of mine will disrespect me like that!" she uttered and Grimmjow felt his head snap brutally to the side as she slapped him viciously. "And you should wash your mouth out. I know you look grown up but Grimmjow you are thirteen years old." She grasped his right ear and twisted it harshly. "I should wash your mouth out with soap."

Grimmjow barely had time to process what she was saying before his head was being shoved into the kitchen sink and sharp nails were keeping it down, digging into his scalp. He fought against her, pushing backwards and twisting out of the iron grip.

"I'm eighteen," he snarled, backing away toward the table, toward the doorway. He had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was wouldn't end well. "What on earth is wrong with you?"

His whole body was trembling and he didn't know whether it was all from anger anymore. She grabbed his wrists again and he yanked forwards, pulling himself once again from her grip. She stumbled with the momentum and knocked against the table.

"Nothing is wrong with me," she said sweetly, once again picking up the wine bottle.

"Just stop drinking, for once," Grimmjow said in exasperation as she took a swig.

"Oh, so you think you can tell me what to do as well? You're just like your father," she hissed at him, and as her lips pulled back Grimmjow noticed her teeth were stained purple.

He didn't even bother replying, deciding to get out of the room before he did something he would regret. As he reached the doorway he heard another snarl and before he knew it she was on him, pinning him down to the floor with all her strength. His head banged against the edge of the doorframe with a sickening thud and all he could were stars. Her voice reached him as if travelling through a fog.

"You think you can leave me? Just like he did?" She smashed the bottle against the hard floor to emphasise her point. "You can't." She smiled, and all Grimmjow felt was hot, bright pain as she brought the jagged edges across his chest in a singular sweeping movement.

"You can't," she murmured again, pushing down harder. Grimmjow struggled but his eyes were closing and his head was full of cotton wool and he had no control. He could feel something warm and wet soaking his shirt, and a sharp jagged pain emanated from his core.

"No," he croaked as he felt a weight lift off him, and he struggled against the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Nel. She needed him. Warmth and hope and brightness. Ichigo. He wanted him. He was the future, something that was his and untainted by the woman he called his mother.

Eyes barely open he watched as his mother looked at him, a beatific smile gracing her features once again. The light caught the sharp edge of the broken glass as she lifted it up again.

"We'll be together, my love, just us," she said, slashing quickly at her own wrists, digging deep beneath the skin.

He turned his head, feeling sick. He struggled still, knowing he couldn't leave Nel alone. It wouldn't end like this. It wouldn't.

The pain nearly made him pass out but somehow, through sheer willpower, he managed to get his phone out of his pocket and dial the last number he called.

"Ichigo..."he whispered before it all became too much as his eyes closed, breathing harsh and hard and desperate as he tried to cling onto life.

* * *

XXX

* * *

"Go fith!" Nel declared, looking at Tatsuki.

They were lazing around his living room: Yuzu, Karin, Nel, Tatsuki and Ichigo. The dark-haired girl had come around to chew him out for not getting together with Orihime, but somehow that conversation had been bypassed and they ended up playing card games.

Ichigo glanced at his phone for the millionth time. It had only been an hour, nothing to worry about. But he couldn't help but feel jumpy. Something horrible was happening to Grimmjow, and he wanted nothing more than to be there and help him, support him. Even so, Ichigo knew Nel was the blue-haired teen's top priority and that was why he was here, trying to keep his mind off earlier. And hers.

"So Ichigo, tell me again why Grimmjow's kid sister is here?" Tatsuki asked casually. The others were still engrossed in the game, Karin's competitive side coming out. Loudly.

They, on the other hand, had quickly lost.

"He asked me a favour. I couldn't refuse," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Yeah right," she snorted at him, "You guys barely talk. I've only ever see you insult each other and fight. And send dirty looks too..." her voice trailed off as she looked at Ichigo's slightly pink face.

Ichigo realised that perhaps the looks the last week hadn't been as discreet as he imagined.

"Something is happening between you, isn't it?" Tatsuki asked the question but she obviously knew the answer.

Before Ichigo could even attempt to vehemently - what, did he even want to deny it? He didn't know what he wanted - his phone began to ring.

_Grimmjow_

"Hello?" he answered cautiously. Nothing but breathing could be heard on the other side. "Hello?" he repeated, louder, the pit of his stomach suddenly falling as a sickening feeling began to spread across his body. A cold, clammy, familiar feeling.

"No, shit, no," he whispered, jumping to his feet.

"DAD!" he yelled desperately, "DAD I NEED A RIDE!"

He looked at his classmate, "Just look after the girls okay?" he said and then was rushing out of the door without even waiting for a reply.

His dad had his keys in one hand and was putting on his shoes with the other.

"No time for that," Ichigo gasped, rushing out into the driveway.

"Where are we going?" his father asked, detecting that now was not the time for questions.

Ichigo garbled out Grimmjow's address and bit his lip worriedly. He hoped to hell his was just imagining things.

_Please_ he silently begged. _Please let me be imagining things._

They came to a halt in front of Grimmjow's apartment complex and Ichigo all but tumbled out of the car.

"I think my friend might be in trouble," he explained to his father as they took the stairs two at a time. The complex door had been wide open.

As they got onto the landing, Ichigo saw the front door was wide open, but no sounds were coming from the flat.

He rushed into the hallway and into the kitchen, the feeling his stomach growing to a cold, dark hole of despair. His hands felt like ice and his lip was nearly bleeding from how hard his had been biting it.

"Oh my God, no, Grimmjow!"

Ichigo fell to his knees at the sight. Grimmjow's body was crumpled on the ground; his front stained a terrible red, a pool of darkening liquid around him. Ichigo pulled off his hoodie pushed it against his chest, applying pressure to the wound. It looked cruelly deep andwas definitely not a clean cut. He raised two fingers to check his pulse and felt relief flood him as a faint heartbeat answered his silent plea.

His head snapped up at Isshin's sharp intake of breath and he saw his father rush to the table. Slumped against it was the woman that Ichigo had taken to be Grimmjow's mother. She too was covered in blood and as his father began to take bandages out of the first aid kit he had grabbed from the car upon hearing his son's explanation, he realised there was ugly gaping wounds on her wrists.

"We need an ambulance. This is Doctor Isshin Kurosaki, I have two adults in critical condition and you should get here as soon as possible,"

His father's voice faded out of his mind as Ichigo looked at Grimmjow's ashen face. He didn't even notice the tears pouring down his own; he could only feel the warmth of the blood his hoodie was slowly soaking up.

After what felt like an eternity his father pushed his hands away and began to bind Grimmjow's wound as best he could.

"Ichigo, it's okay. The wounds aren't as deep as they look, his blood loss is minimal, it could have been worse."

The words slid off him like water off a stone. Minimal? He stared at his red hands, the dark stains on the kitchen floor, and felt like that word was not the one he would have used.

He didn't move away from Grimmjow's side as his father treated him, his hand wrapped gently around Grimmjow's wrist, feeling the comforting beat of his heart.

The paramedics flooded into the room and Isshin barked out orders but all Ichigo could hear was that steady beat that told him Grimmjow was alive.

His whole body was shaking, worse than ever before.

Grimmjow.

Grimmjow.

They pried his hand away and Ichigo fell back woodenly.

Grimmjow

Ichigo didn't want to lose him. He put his head between his knees and took a shuddering breath. He couldn't lose him.

Grimmjow.

His father led him back into the car and they drove silently back to their home.

As soon as he arrived he thanked his father. He ate his dinner. He lay down in bed.

Grimmjow.

He couldn't lose him too.

* * *

**A/N – Sorry if any technicalities pertaining to the medical aspects of this chapter were wrong – I am but a lowly fanfiction writer after all ;)**


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